


How to SAVE the World

by talkingsoup



Series: The Scientist [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Neglect, Depression, Earn Your Happy Ending, Gen, Hospitals, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues, Narrator Chara (Undertale), POV Sans, Past Abuse, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route - "I want to stay with you.", institutionalization, unreality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-06-26 16:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 95,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15666762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingsoup/pseuds/talkingsoup
Summary: The end of the game isn't the end of the story.





	1. Getting Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Odd-numbered chapters will be mostly linear, set in the post-pacifist timeline. Even-numbered chapters will explore other timelines, and will tend to be much shorter. All timelines are connected.

The first thing was the wind.

There wasn’t much in the way of wind in the Underground. Hotland had some hot breezes thanks to the Core and convection from the magma, and some of the larger caverns had the occasional small, self-contained gust of wind. Sometimes a breeze would blow in through the barrier, but it tended to die before even leaving the palace. But that was it. Snowdin and Waterfall were mostly dead air.

Sans could feel the wind now, blowing down the dark tunnel, whistling through cracks and crevices in the stone. It smelled like green and petrichor and something else that Sans had never smelled before. The scent of the Surface, maybe.

He was trailing along behind the others, all of them walking in silence. Even Papyrus was quiet as he broke into a jog toward the light up ahead. The silence was almost reverential, like they all were afraid breaking the silence would break the spell. Make all of this just some pretty, impossible dream.

Undyne was the next to start running, and soon after Alphys started fast-walking to try and catch up with her. Toriel was keeping pace with the human--with Frisk. King Asgore was lagging behind near Sans, and Sans was pretty sure the king was trembling.

Sans’s soul felt tight in his ribcage. This wasn’t real. He was going to wake up back in Snowdin any moment now. This couldn’t possibly be real.

The light grew brighter as they approached, brighter than anything. Sans had to squint against it, raising an arm to shield his face. The light flooded the tunnel’s mouth and Sans squeezed his eyesockets shut as he stepped out into open air.

He could feel it even before he opened his eyesockets. Just--air. Space. Like he’d just stepped into an indescribably huge cavern, the sensation of open nothingness on all sides. He almost staggered, and finally opened his eyesockets.

The Surface.

The entire world rolled out before them in all directions. There was a forest below the mountain that made the one in Snowdin look like a handful of twigs, more trees than existed in the entire Underground, bigger and greener than anything Sans had ever seen. Far in the distance was a city, light catching off the glass and metal of buildings that could never have fit in New Home. In another direction, something massive punched up out of the landscape like a tooth, and Sans realized it had to be another mountain. A mountain, seen from the outside. 

Above them, sky. Bluer than anything, marked with patches of white that had to be clouds. The sun, hanging low. It was bigger and brighter than Sans could have possibly imagined, sinking toward the horizon, staining the edge of the sky gold and orange and pink.

Sans had seen pictures, of course. All monsters had at least seen pictures. But nothing…nothing could have prepared him for this. Pictures didn’t capture the _scale,_ the _openness,_ the fresh scent of the air, the understanding that you were seeing miles and miles and miles into the distance, the knowledge that beyond the line of the horizon there was _still more world._ The sheer sensation of open air all around, the terrifying freeness of looking up and there being no ceiling. No walls, no caves. Just endless, open air. The wind was strong enough to tug at the sleeves and hem of his hoodie. It felt as if he could float away.

It was overwhelming. Indescribable. The most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He hadn’t felt anything like this since Papyrus had been born.

“Oh my,” Toriel was saying, eyes wide, voice soft. They had all come to stand near the edge of the cliff, staring out at the world.

“Isn’t it beautiful, everyone?” Asgore said. His voice was thick as if he might start to weep.

“Wow…it’s e-even better than on TV!” Sans couldn’t remember the last time he had heard Alphys sound so awed, so excited. “Way better! Better than I…ever could have imagined!" 

“Frisk, you _live_ with this?” Undyne demanded with unguarded wonder. “The sunlight is so _nice…_ and the air! It’s so fresh! I feel so alive!”

She spread her arms and turned her face skyward, taking a deep breath as if she could drink it all in.

Sans didn’t know where to look. There was so _much_ of it. The entire Surface in all its glory, finally open to them. It was so…he hadn’t expected it to be so _colorful._

“HEY, SANS…”

Sans came back to himself at the sound of his brother’s voice. He tore his gaze away from the Surface and looked up at him. Papyrus pointed toward the horizon, squinting at the sun with mild suspicion.

“WHAT’S THAT GIANT BALL?”

Sans blinked and smiled despite himself. He let out a breath of laughter.

“Heh.” He reached up and patted Papyrus’s arm. “We call that ‘the sun,’ my friend.”

Papyrus’s eyesockets widened. “That’s the SUN? WOWIE!” He threw his arms in the air. “I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M FINALLY MEETING THE SUN!”

Sans turned back toward the sunset, chuckling a little. They were all talking now, smiling and laughing, absorbing the beauty of the Surface, the miracle of freedom. Free. They were free. Finally, after all this time, monsters were free.

It was…

It was incredible. He was happy. Excited, even, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt excited. It was over. They had won. _Frisk_ had won. All the things that Sans had let himself secretly hope for them had come to pass. They hadn’t hurt a single monster--hell, they had gone out of their way to befriend practically half the Underground. They had proven themself to be a good person, a friend. They had gotten monsterkind to the Surface.

Surely that had to mean that this was truly over. That the loops were finished. No more Reloads. No more Resets.

Surely it had to finally be over.

So why wasn’t he happier?

Why did it still feel like none of this was real?

It wasn’t even just time, the unsettling idea that Frisk could possibly still Reset, even while up here. The faint and ever-present dread that the timelines might still all be ending. It wasn’t even the dawning realization that the Surface was so, _so_ much bigger than he could ever have conceived, that it was so impossibly big and so impossibly full of variables, and that for as free and light and happy as he felt, he also felt smaller than he had in ages. It wasn’t just that.

It just seemed like it should be simple. As simple as it appeared to be for the others. Toriel and Asgore were already talking about the future, about the end of the war. Undyne and Alphys were holding hands, smiling huge. Papyrus kept waving at the sun as if it might start waving back. They were all so _happy._ And so was Sans, but it just…it didn’t feel like enough. It felt a little hollow. Far away. As far away as that shining city in the distance. It was confusing, like he couldn’t quite pin anything down, his thoughts and feelings coming in random scraps and pieces.

Sans looked over past Toriel, at Frisk. Even they were smiling, big and wide and unguarded, when throughout the Underground he had only ever seen them smile small, almost shy. They were staying as quiet as always, trading looks between the sunset and the monsters around them. Sans watched them smile wider when they looked at the others.

“Frisk, I have something to ask of you,” Asgore was saying. “Will you act as our ambassador to the humans?”

Sans blinked. The request made sense, seeing as Frisk was probably the only human of this era to have encountered monsters--and survived, at least. But hadn’t the kid done enough already? Asgore made the request sound so formal. Sans glanced over at Frisk again. He watched as that smile on their face flickered just a little, fading into something…

Something thinner, smaller. Less genuine. More like their usual self. They were harder to read than most monsters, but it was as if the request had frightened them.

It was only for a moment. Then they were smiling again.

“Yes,” they said, their voice soft and halting, a little raspy from underuse. “I’ll do it.”

Frisk’s gaze slid away and landed on Sans. When they noticed him staring, they immediately looked away, ducking their head, hair falling in their face.  Almost like they were embarrassed. Or afraid.

“YEAH!” Papyrus cheered. “Frisk will be the BEST ambassador! And I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS…”

Papyrus paused dramatically and struck a pose.

“…WILL BE THE BEST MASCOT!”

Sans couldn’t help an amused snort. Everything was happening so fast, but Papyrus…Papyrus was so damn happy. Ready to charge ahead, just like always.

True to form, Papyrus pumped a fist in the air and said, “I’LL GO MAKE A GOOD FIRST IMPRESSION!”

Before Sans could even say a word, Papyrus was darting off down the path leading away from the cave. He almost left a dust cloud.

Sans should probably go after him. He could easily catch up with a teleport or two. Just slip sideways through spacetime and follow his brother down the mountain. Simple.

Sans thought about variables. About open air. All that endless, endless, _endless_ world. He knew the Underground like the back of his hand, could teleport to just about anywhere without any concern that he’d end up somewhere strange. He hadn’t spent all that time perfecting his teleports for nothing.

This was different. This was the Surface. Sans tried to remember the numbers, the actual surface area (hah) of the globe in miles--leagues? was there a bigger term?--and felt his mind fuzz over. It was too big. Bigger than anything.

It was too much. And maybe this wasn’t even real. He glanced at Frisk again, but they weren’t looking.

All at once, Sans couldn’t breathe.

“Welp,” he said, shoulders rising in a careless shrug. “Someone’s gotta keep him from getting into trouble.”

Undyne would go after him. Or Frisk. Someone. Sans would catch up eventually, but right now he needed--

He needed--

“See you guys,” he said, and walked straight back into the cave.

He heard Undyne groan behind him and snarl something about doing everything herself. Of course. Papyrus would be fine with Unydne looking after him. It’d be fine.

Sans climbed back down into the Underground until he could no longer hear any of them and until all that searing light from the Surface was a little more bearable. Then he sat down on a stone and gripped his knees.

“It’s real,” he whispered to himself. “It’s real, it’s real. It has to be real.”

This was stupid. This was just--he was being stupid, that was all. The rest of them weren’t waiting for all of this to end and snap back to the status quo. The rest of them were happy and ready to start life on the Surface. Hell, how many monsters had Sans seen on the way here that were already packing, already making plans? No one else was afraid of it ending.

No one else was afraid of it _lasting._

It was ridiculous. He couldn’t even really pin down what he was feeling. He couldn’t tell if he was more afraid of it being real or of it not being real. Why would he be afraid of it _being real?_ Wasn’t this what he had wanted? What all monsters had always wanted? Hadn’t he been looking for a way to stop the anomaly, stop the Resets, for…

_How long has it even been?_

Didn’t matter. Time hadn’t mattered very much lately. Nothing at all had mattered in a long time now.

It should be simple. He should just be happy, like everyone else. Monsters had the Surface back. That was supposed to be all any of them had ever really wanted.

Sans balled his fists together and propped his forehead against them. It was okay. Maybe…maybe it was just that he hadn’t felt this many different things at once in a--a long time. Maybe not even since that time in the Core, when everything had gone wrong. He just needed a second to pull himself together.

He just didn’t know where or how to begin. Circles didn’t have beginnings.

  
  
***

 

 

The first few days were a blur. Sans tried to stick close to Papyrus when he could, but Papyrus wanted to work with Frisk and the others in establishing relations between monsters and the local humans. Sans couldn’t help but be leery of the whole idea--it wasn’t lost on him that there were vastly, vastly more humans in this world than there were monsters. Some humans in strange uniforms had showed up early that second day, and it occurred to Sans then that the only humans he had ever seen in real life had been kids. Small. Adult humans were a whole lot bigger.

It had been tense at first, as the humans clearly had no idea what was going on or why monsters had suddenly returned. There had been long talks and private conversations in Asgore’s tent, and then a lot of shaking hands and smiling. Then the humans had dispersed, and Asgore announced that monsters were going to be allowed to establish a settlement in the forest just outside of the big city.

Things moved quickly after that. Sans mostly watched from the sidelines as monsters started to pour out of the mountain and set up tents and shacks in a large clearing in the trees. There was a lot of traffic back and forth as some monsters decided to move straight to the Surface, while others eased into it with more caution. Papyrus got hard at work helping others to move or making the forest more livable. Alphys threw herself into helping the Amalgamates and their families to transition to the Surface, while also providing some basic engineering tips to the monsters trying to build living spaces. Undyne and the Royal Guard took charge of defense and security, just in case any of the local humans proved hostile. Toriel, Asgore and Frisk all were working tirelessly with monsters and with the humans to establish diplomatic relations. Humans kept showing up to ask questions or they brought cameras and conducted interviews or filmed the settlement, which Sans found both logical and suspicious. Surprisingly, other groups of humans arrived with things like tents and blankets and even food. Some of them even stuck around long enough to help set things up.

Sans remembered something from long ago. Someone had told him that humans _knew_ that the war and the barrier had been a mistake. He couldn’t remember who had told him that, but maybe it really was true. Maybe some of these humans were trying to make up for it. It was a nice thought, but Sans couldn’t help but think there was probably a catch. There had to be something the humans were going to get out of all this.

Everyone was busy with something--except for Sans. Given his reputation, it wasn’t like anyone really _expected_ him to do much, and normally Sans would have been happy to be his usual lazy self. He had set up his usual combination sentry/hotdog stand, mostly out of familiarity, but there were no water sausages growing nearby and he ran out of stock within a few days. Going back to Waterfall to get more was out of the question--it was about a six mile walk, part of which was straight up the side of Mt. Ebott. Sans was still uncomfortable with the idea of teleporting at all, let alone going so far. The thought of not just the distance, but of all the earth and rock that stood in his way, was terrifying.

So Sans was stuck with plain sentry duty, which was as boring as ever. The difference now was that every single monster was hard at work or had been given a specific job to do. Even the children were working, mostly helping to carry things or helping with cooking. Sans felt like the only monster who wasn’t busting his tailbone.

If he had any real dignity left, it might have been embarrassing. As it was, it just made him a bit uncomfortable. A lot of things were making him uncomfortable these days. The near-constant human presence was unsettling, after seeing only one human every several years or so. Weirdly enough, Sans got the distinct impression that the feeling was mutual. He tried to generally stay away from the humans, but he would often catch them staring at him or at Papyrus for longer than they tended to stare at other monsters. It took him a little while to figure out that it was because they were skeletons.

“It’s like a horror trope,” Alphys had explained during one of the rare moments he managed to talk to her. “H-Humans have endoskeletons--actually, a l-lot of living things up here do.”

“Yeah, I figured that much.” Sans had almost failed biology back in college, but this was somewhat fundamental.

“So I think they associate skeletons with, l-like, death?” Alphys went on, scratching at her headspines. “Maybe they’re just a little s-spooked.”

“Huh. Usually when I _rattle_ someone, it’s intentional, heh.”

“I’m sure they’ll warm up to the idea soon,” Alphys said, smiling. She’d been trying harder lately to stay optimistic. “They’ve been really f-friendly so far, and Papyrus is, um…really taking the mascot thing seriously.”

“Yeah, heh. He’s as cool as ever. Ah well, I guess it doesn’t really matter if they get used to us or not.”

Alphys frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“…Just that we’re here now and, yanno. We’re not goin’ anywhere.”

Alphys seemed to accept that explanation, which was for the best. She’d been trying so hard lately. He’d been so proud of her when she’d owned up to what had happened with the Amalgamates and had reunited them with her families. And she had Undyne. Things were finally looking up for Alphys, so Sans wasn’t about to drag her back down. She still knew about Resets, but somewhere along the way she had forgotten that the timelines were ending. Sans had decided awhile ago never to remind her. There was no reason for her to think that a Reset might still happen now that they were on the Surface.

It was something that Sans couldn’t help but think about.

The boredom was a bit mind-numbing. He tried to take walks to clear his head, like he’d done in the Underground. As soon as he got out of earshot of the encampment, though, he’d start to get nervous. It was never really possible to get _lost_ in the Underground, because walk a bit in any given direction and you’d either run into a wall or another monster. Even if you lost your bearings, you could get them back easily enough. Out here, nothing was familiar. The trees were different, the ground was different, there were plants _everywhere._ And animals, and birds, and everything else. Life was flourishing all over the damn place. There were probably more insects in the monster encampment than there had been in the whole Underground. Sans couldn’t get more than a half mile from the settlement before he got too overwhelmed and had to turn back around.

So Sans found himself…a bit trapped. He was stuck at his station, or he was stuck at his and Papyrus’s tent, or he was stuck at the little food stand that Grillby had set up. Even Grillby and all the Grillby Regulars were too busy to talk to him much if at all. As days went by and the settlement slowly grew, Sans felt himself becoming steadily more agitated. He had no idea what was wrong with him. It made sense that there was an adjustment period, that he couldn’t be expected to get used to the Surface instantly, but all the other monsters around him seemed so enthusiastic--to be on the Surface, to rebuild, to explore. Some of them were even already making plans to travel into the city and see what it was like. Scouts had already started trying to map the rest of the forest. King Asgore had gently advised everyone to at least stay in the vicinity of the mountain for the time being, at least until word had spread about the monsters’ return.

At least when Sans was in the tent he shared with Papyrus, he could pretend that he was still Underground. That they were just camping in the backyard.

“We haven’t done that in awhile, huh,” Sans said one morning. He was lying with his arms folded behind his head, staring at the pattern of leaves playing on the tent’s roof. Papyrus was getting ready for another day of ambassadorial work.

“Gone camping? We are camping RIGHT NOW, Sans!” he said as he looked himself over with a small pocket mirror.

“Well yeah. I mean like…set up the tent in the backyard. We should do that again sometime.”

Papyrus looked over at him, but Sans kept staring at the leaves of the trees. They were backlit by the…well, it must be the sun. It would be the sun, right?

“That is an EXCELLENT idea, Sans!” Papyrus said. “If we are not SICK AND TIRED of camping by the time we rebuild our house, we should DEFINITELY do that!”

“Rebuild…? Oh. Right.”

It had to be the sun that was casting those leaf shadows on top of the tent, because they were on the Surface, and the sun was…up here. They weren’t camping in the backyard, they were camping for real. On the Surface. In the forest.

“Anyway, I AM OFF!” Papyrus said, giving his scarf a flourish and striking a pose. “How do I look, Sans? You know, of ALL the things I knew I’d miss when we moved up here, I DID NOT THINK THE BATHROOM MIRROR WOULD BE ONE OF THEM!”

Up here, because they were on the Surface. Right.

“Sans?”

Sans blinked and looked over at his brother. Papyrus was staring at him like he wasn’t sure whether to be concerned or annoyed.

“Oh, yeah. You look great, bro. How’s the mascot gig going, anyway?”

“It is going WONDERFULLY, SANS! I would tell you all about it, but I REALLY need to run! A mascot’s job is NEVER FINISHED!”

“You can tell me tonight.”

“OH, DON’T WAIT UP FOR ME BROTHER!” Papyrus was already sort of crouch-walking his way to the tent flap. “It’s going to be ANOTHER BUSY DAY for the GREAT PAPYRUS!”

Sans started to tell him goodbye, but Papyrus was already gone. He was doing just fine up here, like Sans had expected. Papyrus was finding that being a mascot made up for never getting to join the Royal Guard, at least a little. He was happy.

Sans leaned up onto his elbows and peered out the tent flap to the patch of sunlit, leaf-strewn ground he could see. Definitely the Surface. Not the Underground. It felt like his mind was trying to slog through molasses. Surface, Underground; real, not real. Both things felt like they could be equally true.

Maybe staying in the tent and pretending he was still Underground wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe he just had to force himself to accept that they were truly on the Surface. Assuming they actually were.

The thought occurred to him that he could always just talk to Frisk, but he stamped that one out before it could go anywhere. That was…complicated. He trusted them, sure. He had trusted them enough to give them the key to his room--even to let them find the key to the basement. If they’d ever gone down there, they hadn’t mentioned it to him. They hadn’t said a word about Resets or timelines or any of it, and Sans had already decided that bringing it up himself would be like poking a sleeping dragon. Like explicitly acknowledging Resets might make them _want_ to Reset or something. Frisk had barely said a word to him at all since reaching the Surface. They were busy. They had much more important things to worry about than some dumb skeleton’s peace of mind.

Sans struck a deal with himself and left the tent to go sit in his chair just outside. This way he could bask in the sunlight and monster-watch as everyone else got to work. The campground was already filled with noise, and the smells of magic and breakfast. A family of Icecaps who had set up camp across the way were loudly complaining about the heat. A pack of Whimsums flew by, chattering worriedly about birds. Sans could see Undyne in the distance, having what appeared to be an intense conversation with another guard and one of the local humans. There was a nice breeze in the air, stirring the trees and blowing a few more yellowing leaves off the branches. It was early autumn, or at least that’s what the humans had said.

_We’re on the Surface. Everyone’s alive. Time’s moving forward._

Sans twisted one of the drawstrings on his hoodie back and forth between two fingers. He wondered if anyone would even notice if he just didn’t go to his sentry station today. No one had ever actually _told_ him to keep being a sentry. It was pure habit. Frankly, it was the only thing he really knew how to do. No, he’d just hang out today, he supposed. Track down breakfast. Read a book. Nap. If he lazed around enough, eventually Papyrus would get annoyed and tell him to do something. Even if it was just cleaning up the tent or gathering kindling for the fires or whatever. For once, something would be better than nothing. Nothing meant too much thinking.

Breakfast first. Sans dragged himself upright after a few minutes and trundled toward Grillby’s food stand. Grillby had been the first to set up any kind of communal kitchen at the settlement, so he had managed to score a pretty central location. His menu was a lot smaller, naturally, but that was fine. It was better than trying to figure out how to cook something over an open, non-magical fire.

The food stand was always busy, and this morning was no exception. The line was long enough that Sans dozed off while he waited and almost lost his spot. Sans was hoping to chat with the flame monster--he’d barely even seen Grillby since leaving the mountain. No such luck, though. Grillby’s niece, a green flame monster named Fuku, was handling customers while Grillby himself was deeper in the tent doing the cooking.

“Hey, Fuku,” Sans said when he got to the front of the line. “What’s the eggs today?”

“Hi, Sans,” she said, smiling faintly. “Sunny-side-up on toast.”

“I’ll take it. Got ketchup yet?”

“Not yet,” Fuku said, shaking her head and stepping aside to grab a paper plate with two slices of egg toast. “Sorry.”

“Ah, well.”

“Coffee with extra sugar, right?”

“You read my mind,” he said with a grateful sigh. Fuku passed him his food and he set a few G on the counter. “Tell your uncle I said hey.”

“Will do,” she said, bobbing her head politely. “Bye, Sans.”

Sans returned to his tent to eat and watch the world go by. He had barely started on his toast when Undyne appeared, almost out of thin air. She was accompanied by the guard and the human that he’d seen her with earlier.

“Hey, punk!” she said, marching right toward him. “What’re you doing?”

“Eatin’ breakfast,” Sans said with his mouth full of egg toast.

“Ugh, obviously,” Undyne said, rolling her eye. “I meant _in general._ What’re you doing today?”

Sans dusted crumbs off his hands. “Not much. Hanging out.”

“Good.” Undyne grinned, showing all her teeth. “You should come into the city with us, then! I’m heading there with some of the former guards and sentries to investigate and identify security threats. Steven here has agreed to drive us! Have you met Steven?”

She clapped the human on the shoulder, making him stumble a little. Sans grinned up at the human, who smiled nervously and waved a little.

“Nah, don’t think we’ve met,” Sans said, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. “But I’ve seen you around. It’s nice of you to be be willing to drive people. Though uh, you might wanna put towels down before you let a Moldsmal in your car. Just some friendly advice." 

Steven’s smile broadened as he relaxed a little.

“The little…green jello-mold guys, right? I see your point, heh.”

“Anyway, uh.” Sans looked over at Undyne again. “I think I’ll take a pass. Sounds like a whole lotta work.”

Sans knew that eventually he’d _have_ to visit the city. Just like eventually he’d have get in a car, and probably learn to drive one, seeing as one of Papyrus’s long-term dreams was to get a sports car. But Sans had seen some of the cars and trucks tooling around the edges of the settlement as humans came and went, and they were a lot bigger and faster than he had thought. Pictures in car magazines hadn’t really done them justice. No pictures of the Surface world had done _any_ of it justice.

Everything was bigger up here.

“Seriously?” Undyne didn’t sound all that surprised. “What do you even have to do around here that’s important?”

Sans winked at her. “Naps. Lunch. Protecting the tent from marauding Temmies. I saw a weird bird earlier that looked pretty dangerous. You never know what the local wildlife is planning.”

 _“Ugh,_ fine,” Undyne said, throwing up her arms. “Forget I even asked. C’mon, let’s go get ready.”

Sans chuckled as she marched away and the guard followed her. Steven started to follow, then paused and looked back at Sans.

“What did it look like?”

“Hm?”

“The bird you saw.”

“Oh, heh. I dunno, big and brown. Or maybe small and brown. Don’t know a thing about birds, heh. Bigger than most of the ones I’ve seen around.”

“Ooh, might’ve been a hawk. We have a couple kinds around here.”

Sans had no idea what a hawk was, or how it was different from the rest of the regular birds. “There’s different kinds?”

“Yeah, lots. Actually…do you want a book about birds?” Steven smiled brightly. “Uh, we’ve been taking up book collections back home, since your king said there weren’t many normal--I mean, Surface books, back…underground. I know there’s some wildlife books in there, if you want.”

Sans stared at Steven for maybe a moment too long, internally debating why a random human would bother with such an offer. Steven had to be expecting something in return. Gold, maybe. Sans had heard that some humans were very interested in how much gold monsters seem to have.

Steven glanced away awkwardly and Sans remembered that he was supposed to answer.

“Heh, it was mostly a joke,” he started to say, but then his gaze fell on a small white and gray bird perched in a tree nearby. Like the insects, there were birds _everywhere_ in the settlement, and Sans had no idea what any of them were. The only birds underground were bird monsters, and they were few and far between.

Maybe learning some of their names would help solidify all this. If this was some kind of dream or illusion, there’d be no reason to learn anything about birds. It wasn’t something that would have ever occurred to him. Doing things that were out of the ordinary would prove that this was real.

“You know what, sure,” he said, grinning at Steven again. “It’d be good to have some reading material again. Had to leave most of my stuff underground. I’d really appreciate it, actually. How much you want for it?”

“Huh? Oh, like--no, no, like I said, this is all donations. It’s free.”

“Oh.” Sans studied Steven’s face for any sign of deception and found none. “Cool, uh. That’s real nice of you guys.”

Steven smiled again. “Hey, it’s the least we can do. Okay, then. Uh, I think I can get it by tonight, or maybe tomorrow. It was--Sans, right?”

“That’s me.”

“We’re making a list,” Steven said, pulling out a cell phone and tapping it a few times. “It’s becoming almost like a mobile library or something. Alright…cool. I’ll bring it by later.”

“Thanks. It was nice meeting you, Steven.”

“Yeah, you too. And, uh, welcome to the Surface.”

Steven turned and left to catch up with Undyne. Sans watched him go. Lists of monster names…that could be ominous. Steven had seemed friendly, but humans were good at pretending.

Sans frowned to himself. That was an odd thing to think. He had no idea whether humans were good at pretending or not. He’d only met a few of them, and Frisk hadn’t been pretending while they were underground. They’d been genuine.

It had…all been genuine, right?

In any case, he couldn’t just let his guard down around this Steven guy. Or any of the humans. The other shoe was going to drop one of these days. It had to.

Sans munched his breakfast and tried to stop thinking.

  


***

 

It was sunset when Papyrus returned. Sans had retreated into the tent and was laying on his back with his arms folded behind his head, staring at the tent ceiling again. Just like he had predicted, Papyrus was instantly annoyed.

“SANS! Have you even MOVED all day?!”

Sans made a show of yawning and grinned up at his brother.

“Of course, bro. Had to get up for meals. So how did--?”

Papyrus cut him off with a long, drawn-out groan.

“EVERYONE ELSE is busy and working hard, but OF COURSE you’re STILL AS LAZY AS EVER! You’ve barely done ANYTHING since we got up here!”

“Up where?”

Papyrus eyelights almost bugged out of his skull. “THE SURFACE, OF COURSE!”

“Oh.” Sans had only been lying around in the tent for an hour or so now, but apparently that was enough to confuse him. He’d have to be more careful. He covered it with another yawn and a stretch. “Right, yeah.”

“MUST YOU be so lazy now of all times? We need EVERYONE’S HELP if we’re going to turn Outside into a real monster town!”

Sans felt a flash of momentary panic as he wondered if he had also forgotten the name for the settlement. When had Asgore decided on the name?

“That’s right, you probably haven’t heard, if you’ve been in the tent all day!” Papyrus continued. “We finally have a name! We are now called…OUTSIDE!”

That explained it. Sans sat up slowly.

“Heh, that’s King Asgore for you. I kinda like it, though. It’s better than Surface Home.”

Papyrus made a face. “Or NEW NEW HOME.”

“Anyway, you know me. I’ve got a reputation to protect. Besides, can you really see me helping to build houses?”

Papyrus was quiet for a moment as he was clearly trying to envision such a thing.

“No…BUT THERE IS MORE TO DO THAN BUILDING HOUSES!” Papyrus gave an exasperated sigh. “We are almost out of firewood, so…why don’t you go collect some more?”

Sans tried not to look as relieved as he felt. The day had mostly been a bust, so it would be nice to end it by feeling even a little bit useful.

“Aww man,” he said, because he did have to keep up appearances, even as he pulled himself to his feet. “Walking around…carrying things…my two least favorite things.”

“You are SUCH a lazybones!” Papyrus took Sans’s shoulder and steered him toward the tent flap. “Just be back before dark!”

Stepping out of the tent and seeing the forest, the long shadows of the tall trees and the leaves covering the ground, was like waking up. Sans inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. The Surface. All those usual Surface smells that he was steadily getting used to--dead leaves, campfire smoke, assorted plant smells. If this was a dream, he probably wouldn’t think to consider how the Surface smelled. How would he know such a thing, anyway?

He headed for the edge of the campsite--Outside, he supposed, if it was really official--scanning the ground for good sticks. Most of Outside was picked clean by now, so he’d have to leave the clearing. That was fine so long as he stayed within sight of the campfires.

This was good. Being out in the trees, seeing all the dead leaves everywhere, picking up sticks. There were only two deciduous trees in the whole Underground, and Sans had never actually seen either of them. There were no seasons underground, either. A faint wind was rustling the tops of the trees, and the sound was like nothing else. The forest itself had a sort of constant low hum to it, and Sans wasn’t sure what exactly it even was. Through the trees he could see the occasional patch of blue sky, slowly darkening and turning orange-pink at the edges.

There were so many small details about the Surface, and Sans had challenged himself to try and notice all of them. Every detail was another point in the Real column. The problem was remembering all of them. It was like as soon as it was no longer obvious that this was the Surface--like when he was in the tent--he just forgot everything. He was starting to think that maybe he should write things down, make a list of Surface details, like when he had been keeping tally marks back underground. But where would he keep it? The tent was too small. There was nowhere he could hide a notebook or anything. Not that Papyrus would look for one, or read it if he found it. But on the off chance that he _did_ read a notebook full of random details about the Surface, then…

Like usual, it was just a lot of questions that Sans really didn’t want to answer.

Something started making noise above him, and Sans looked up. There was a medium-sized black bird in a tree, watching him and giving a raspy sort of call. Sans squinted up at it and it seemed to squint right back. These black birds were all over the place. Someone had said they were called crows. Sans thought back to the human’s--Steven--offer earlier. Books about birds. How many different kinds of birds must there be up here if humans needed entire books about them? How big must the sky be to hold them all?

Sans shook his head. That was probably a dumb thing to be thinking about now. He kept walking, bending down to grab a few more sticks. He heard a flapping sound and looked up to see the crow following him, coming in to land right above his head.

“Not trying to poop on me, are ya?” he said, grinning up at the bird. That was…yet another detail about the Surface he’d had to learn. The whole concept was so foreign to most monsters. Someone had seen a bird dropping things on one of the picnic tables, and some poor human had had to explain what exactly the bird was doing. Sans had witnessed the whole thing. The look on the human’s face as she tried to explain, and the look on the monsters’ faces as they tried to understand, had been utterly priceless.

The crow cawed down at him and Sans chuckled.

“Or maybe you’re looking to pick my bones. Sorry, bud. Not that kind of skeleton.”

Sans kept walking and the crow kept following. Every once in awhile he’d look up and the bird would be there again. When it saw him looking, it would caw at him. Sans amused himself by chatting with the bird now and then. He almost wished he could teleport, make a real game of it.

Sans had a decent pile of sticks when he found himself in another small, mossy clearing. The vegetation was a bit thicker here, which meant it was a bit darker, and it smelled a lot like Waterfall. Sans stepped further into the clearing and realized that it was because there was a small pool in the center, surrounded by rocks and ferns. Some kind of ground-fed spring, maybe. He looked around the edges of the water for water sausages, but there were none. Just a lot of moss and dead leaves.

It was odd, though, because Sans had explored the whole perimeter of Outside, but he was sure he had never seen this spring before. He turned and looked back the way he’d come and realized he couldn’t see any campfires. Nor could he hear the telltale sounds of the camp.

He must have wandered out further than he’d thought. He looked upward, but the trees were thick and he couldn’t see the sky. It was dark. His crow friend had disappeared. How long had he just been wandering like this, lost in thought? It was one thing to do that in the Snowdin woods, since he knew them like the back of his hand. Up here, it was dangerous. He should have known better. He’d let himself relax far too much.

It was dark enough that he should probably head back, anyway. Frowning to himself, Sans turned and walked away from the spring.

Only a few minutes later, Sans had to stop again. He looked around. He still couldn’t see any sign of the campsite. All of the trees looked the same. There was a bush with bright red berries that he couldn’t remember seeing before. Had he even come this way?

He started walking a bit faster, securing the pile of firewood under one arm. He couldn’t possibly have wandered that far--he hadn’t been out here for that long, and he was _Sans._ Even walking a mile wore him out, and he was only just now starting to feel tired. Outside had to be nearby. He must have just gotten turned around.

He passed another bush he didn’t recognize and stopped again, straining to hear any sounds from the camp. There was nothing. No voices, no sounds of construction. Just the chirp and call of insects and the occasional rustling of the underbrush. A twig snapped nearby and every bone in Sans’s body went tense.

Birds, he thought again. It had been a joke before, but he didn’t know a goddamn thing about birds, or about animals, or about any kind of wildlife. What kind of things lived out here, anyway? He knew about bears and deer and wolves, but did anything like that live nearby? Where did things like that even live?

It was much darker now. The sun had long since set. It never got as dark on the Surface as it did underground, but it made things that much more confusing. He looked up and realized he could no longer see the sky. Ceiling?

Sans rubbed at his face with his free hand.

“I’m on the Surface,” he said quietly. “It’s the Surface. It’s real. I’m not lost. The camp’s nearby. Just have to find it. Focus, dummy.”

Sans kept walking. The trees had all gone gray and uniform, and all at once, nothing was familiar. Sans felt sweat trickle down his spine. He heard another twig snap behind him.

“Okay, come on,” he said, frustrated. “This is stupid. Nothing eats skeletons. What would wanna eat me? Heh, got no meat on my bones.”

This was all so stupid. A Surface this big, and he had managed to get himself lost in the woods within a damn mile of the campground.

“I’m not lost.”

It wasn’t like he hadn’t been paying attention. He always paid attention. He always _had_ to, but the Underground had been familiar. Everything from the terrain to the smell of the air, the way sound carried, the monsters he could expect to meet at any given time. He could relax because he knew what to expect, and the Resets had always nailed that home. Nothing was unexpected.

Up here, everything was unexpected. Nothing was familiar. He had lowered his guard, let himself relax, let himself start to get used to the Surface, and look where it had gotten him.

“Stupid,” he muttered, gritting his teeth. “It’s real. It’s permanent. Got to get used to it sometime. Got to get used to--getting lost.”

He came to a stop again. The dark forest stretched out all around him and he grinned to himself.

“Who am I trying to kid?”

This was all going to end, like everything else was. How did he know it hadn’t already? His memory was so hazy these days, and when dealing with Frisk he’d had to rely almost entirely on instinct. On a sort of script, as if he already knew everything he was supposed to say before he said it. There had been a time when he had kept better track of things, took note of every instance of familiarity and deja vu, every hint that something had happened before. Now, he no longer bothered, and he could barely even remember that time as it was. Something about vines. The flower, probably, the one that had ripped out his soul, Papyrus’s soul, everyone’s souls.

How did he know he had even gotten his soul back?

“Stop it,” he growled at himself. “You’re freaking out over nothing.”

He just--he just had to get his bearings. Stop thinking so much and get his bearings. Find his way back to Snowdin, give Papyrus his firewood and then go to sleep. Get ready for the anomaly to show up, probably tomorrow. Do it all over again.

There was a rustle of leaves nearby and a sort of snuffling sound. Sans flinched a little, turning to face the sound. Something small was picking its way through the underbrush. Sans saw a streak of white, and thought it must be the dog that sometimes stayed with them. But the rest of it, whatever it was, was black.

It trundled the rest of the way out of the underbrush, making low sort of squeaking, chuffing sounds. When it spotted Sans it gave a louder squeak and its bushy tail lifted.

Sans pressed back against a tree and stared at it.

“Uh.”

The thing hissed and its tail twitched. It shifted in place as if debating whether to approach or to turn and run, beating the ground with its front paws.

“Okay. You sound mad. Dunno what I did, but uh. Sorry?”

The thing took a step forward, sniffing the air, tail still raised. It was vaguely cat-shaped, but Sans had never seen anything like it before. He’d heard of smaller animals like rats and such getting into the Underground, but nothing like this.

Poor thing had to be pretty spooked if it had gotten this lost.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The thing hissed again and drummed on the ground, and Sans decided that this didn’t have to be his problem. Besides, what was he going to do, pick the thing up and carry it to the barrier? It was probably going to try and bite him if he stuck around here much longer. This was pointless. He should just teleport back home and be done with it.

Something stopped him, however. The thought of teleporting left him with an odd sense of dread. Snowdin was further away than normal, and he might miss. End up in a wall or a tree. But that--didn’t make any sense. He had teleported from one end to the Underground and back plenty of times now. Why should this be any different?

The animal made a small sort of jump forward, and Sans was thinking that he might as well just teleport anyway. But then he heard something else moving through the underbrush toward him. He saw a flashlight beam bouncing around through the trees. As soon as the beam landed on the animal, it squeaked and took off in the opposite direction.

Sans looked up, squinting against the light as Frisk stepped out of the trees.

Frisk. He shouldn’t know that name yet.

Their gaze flicked from the departing animal to Sans’s face. Then they immediately dropped their gaze, pointing the flashlight at the ground.

“Kid?” He wasn’t _supposed_ to know their name yet. He almost never remembered names between Resets. “What’re you doing out here?”

“I was looking for you,” they said, their voice as soft and halting as always. “Papyrus was. Getting worried.”

“Oh.” Right, because…because he was supposed to have been back already. He was supposed to… Papyrus needed firewood. For the campfire.

“You were lost,” Frisk continued, even quieter, like they weren’t sure if they should be speaking.

“Yeah. Guess I was.” How could he get lost? These woods were practically his backyard. This--none of this made sense.

Frisk’s eyes flicked up to him again. They looked worried.

“Are you. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Sans rubbed his forehead with his free hand and gave them a reassuring smile. “Heh, you saved me from--whatever that little guy was. Looked real vicious.”

“It was a skunk.” Frisk smiled faintly. “Um. You’re lucky you didn’t get sprayed this t--um. Because they spray this. Really stinky stuff.”

“Oh. Wow, really?”

“Uh-huh. Out their butts.”

“Oh my god.” Sans grinned despite himself. “Guess you didn’t just save me, but Papyrus too.”

They smiled a little wider. “And, um. The way you get it off is. You have to take a bath in, in tomato juice.”

 _“Dude.”_ Sans pressed a hand to his chest dramatically. “You’ve denied me the chance to take a bath in ketchup? I will never recover.”

They started to laugh and immediately covered their mouth, like they always did. They laughed at his jokes, even the stupid ones, but they were always quiet about it.

He shouldn’t know that already, though, unless…

Sans looked around. Deciduous trees, much taller and thicker than the evergreens in Snowdin forest. Surface. This was the Surface.

He’d thought--

“Anyway, guess we should get back to camp,” he said before his mind could run away with him again. “You’d, uh…better lead the way, heh.”

Frisk nodded. They turned away wordlessly and beckoned him to follow. He sighed to himself and did so, hefting his pile of firewood. At least he had something to show for this whole fiasco. At least Papyrus wouldn’t be too disappointed.

He wasn’t going to think about how easily he had--lost touch. Not thinking about it at all. Instead he ran down a list in his head. Deciduous trees. Bushes, ferns. More insects, some night birds calling, rustling in the underbrush that meant there were animals. Sans looked back toward where the skunk had disappeared, but it was long gone. Skunks. Birds. Trees. The sky was up there somewhere. It was just nighttime, and the trees were too thick to see it. That was all.

It was fine. He was fine.

Frisk led him back through the trees, flashlight sweeping back and forth across the forest floor. Eventually Sans started hearing monster voices and he could see the flicker of campfires in the distance. He hadn’t gotten all that lost. He’d just gotten turned around, been going in the wrong direction. It was fine.

Sans studied Frisk’s back as something occurred to him.

“Frisk, how’d you know where to find me?”

They didn’t answer, but in the dim light he could see their shoulders go tense. He frowned to himself and opened his mouth to ask again.

_Don’t ask. Don’t think about it. It’s fine. Don’t think about it._

They both stepped out into the clearing. There were tents and half-built shacks all over, monsters going to and fro, finishing up dinner or starting to settle in for the night. Campfires were sending sparks into the sky. Monsters had come to the Surface and had built this settlement, that they were calling Outside. The barrier had come down five days ago now. Papyrus was at their tent, waiting for Sans.

_We’re on the Surface. Everyone’s alive. Time’s moving forward._

“Thanks again, Frisk.”

They nodded, not looking at him, hair hanging in their face.

“Goodnight, Sans,” they said, and darted away.


	2. LOAD 05220: Ending #?: Ruined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans visits the Empress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains mild violence and references to character death.

Sans was standing in the Last Corridor, having a battle of wits with the dog guarding the door to the throne room.

“Knock knock.”

The dog--Sans didn’t recognize her, but she looked like she might be related to Dogamy--folded her arms and kept glaring at him. Sans grinned back.

“Not a fan? I got different jokes.” He winked at her. “Got some dog puns that’ll  _ paws _ itively knock your socks off.”

The dog didn’t react beyond gritting her teeth a little. Sans couldn’t tell if she was trying to stifle a laugh or the urge to bark at him. Man. The new palace guards really didn’t mess around.

“Or, yanno.” Sans slouched against the wall, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His grin didn’t even move. “We could just chat. Kinda awkward to just stand here totally silent, yeah? Maybe you could tell me why she summoned me.”

The dog narrowed her eyes. Sans’s grin widened slightly. He was winning.

“Heh, didn’t think so. Ah, well. What should we talk about instead? Weather’s been nice, right? Snowdin’s still cold…Waterfall’s still drippy…Hotland’s still hot…”

Sans could see a muscle in the dog’s jaw starting to twitch.

“Or why don’t you tell me about yourself? You must live in New Home, yeah? Never saw you around back in Snowdin. How long you been a guard? Awhile? Bet you have some  _ tails  _ to tell, heh.”

Sans saw a flash of sharp teeth. He was tempting fate, but he didn’t care.

“Actually, I guess it’s pretty rude to ask about you without even introducing myself. The name’s Sans, but you probably--”

“I know who you are,” the dog monsters snapped, teeth clicking.

Sans practically beamed. “So you  _ can  _ talk.”

“I don’t make a habit of talking to  _ traitors.” _

Sans tilted his head. That was a new one. “Is that what they’re calling me these days?”

“It’s what you are,” she said, lips peeling back in a snarl. “So shut your damn mouth before I shut it  _ for you.  _ You will stay  _ silent  _ while you wait for Her Majesty.”

Sans grinned wryly and raised both hands, palms out. “Just making conversation.”

_ “Silence,” _ she growled, the fur on her neck starting to rise. Sans wondered how far he could push her. She was obviously well-trained, had probably been in the Royal Guard for years now. Way too disciplined to actually attack him.

He was debating whether to say something else when the door behind her opened. The dog monster moved away from the door as another guard stepped out, this one a Knight Knight.

“Her Majesty will see him now.”

The dog monster went back to glaring at Sans with her arms folded and jerked her head toward the open door. Sans shrugged.

“Well, it was nice talking to you,” he said, winking at her as he slouched his way into the throne room. The Knight Knight escorted him inside and then closed the door behind them.

The throne room was almost exactly the same as the last time Sans had seen it--golden flowers carpeting the floor, an enormous throne on a raised dais in the center, currently unoccupied. Sunlight streamed in through the crack in the ceiling outside in the cavern. Sans could almost feel the hum of the barrier, a sort of low vibration in his marrow.

Undyne was watering flowers, frowning in concentration. She didn’t look up until the door had clicked shut, eye narrowing when she spotted Sans. Sans picked his way carefully through the flowers toward her, glancing back at the guard. The Knight Knight was blocking the door. Sans wouldn’t be leaving until the Empress willed it.

“Hey, Your Majesty,” Sans said. The words still didn’t feel right in his mouth.

“Sans.” Undyne said his name like it was a curse word.

Sans looked her over. She looked the same as when he’d last seen her, wearing the same armor she’d worn as Captain of the Guard. She’d refused to wear a crown or any of the usual regalia. The only sign of her position was a short sort of half-cape that barely reached past her shoulders, emblazoned with the Delta Rune.

He chuckled a little despite himself.

“They never managed to get you into the robes, huh?”

Undyne gave an exasperated snort and walked over to the throne, setting the watering can down at its base.

“Not for lack of trying,” she muttered. “This stupid cape thing was a compromise.”

“It’s not so bad.”

“It’s not strategic. An enemy could grab it, it could get caught on something…” Undyne grumbled, stooping to look more closely at a patch of flowers. “You know, he used to make this look easy. This gardening crap. I never know how much to water them. I lost a whole patch over in the corner cause I guess I was over-watering. Who the hell ever heard of  _ too much  _ water?”

“I know some Hotlanders who could answer that.”

Undyne made a disgusted sound and finally climbed up onto the dais. She stared at the throne for a moment as if debating whether to sit down. Deciding against it, she turned back to Sans, fixing him with her one-eyed glare.

“I didn’t summon you to chat about fashion and gardening.”

Sans pulled his hands out of his pockets and let his arms fall to his sides. “I figured as much.”

“Do you know why I summoned you?”

He gave her a tired grin. “Are you gonna finally throw me in a dungeon?”

“No.” Undyne frowned at him. “Wait, you willingly came here thinking I was gonna arrest you?”

Sans shrugged and Undyne shook her head.

“God, I don’t get you. No, I summoned you because I need you to do something for me.”

Sans blinked at her. There was a very short list of things he had been expecting, ranging from his arrest to his execution. Undyne wanting his help was absolutely not on that list.

“Uh…you know I’m not, like…affiliated with any of this anymore, right? I haven’t even laid eyesockets on my sentry stand since the rebellion.”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” Undyne said with disgust. “You’d rather hide out with that traitor.”

“Well, apparently I’m a traitor too these days,” Sans said with another careless shrug. “Something something flocking together.”

“What did you  _ expect _ would happen after you chose to side with her?”

“All I did was get her out of harm’s way,” Sans said mildly. “She wasn’t even fighting back, Undyne.”

Undyne bared her teeth and looked like she wanted to say more, but then she reached up and rubbed her forehead. She sucked in a slow breath through her teeth, then let it out just as slowly. Sans was almost impressed. She’d tempered herself a great deal in these last two months.

She’d be a good leader for however much longer this lasted.

“Look, we’ve been over it all before,” she said at length. “I don’t want to argue.”

“Good, cause I don’t have the energy for it.” Sans sighed, relieved. “Just tell me what you want.”

“We need to start thinking about souls again,” Undyne said, drawing herself back up. “It could take forever to get back to where we were, and--you and I both know the Underground can’t wait that long.”

He met her gaze but said nothing. She was right. The rebellion itself had been dustless, but more monsters were Falling Down every day. He had managed to ignore the worst of it, hidden away in the Ruins. But for Undyne, it was probably all she could think about.

“As soon as a human falls down here again, I’m going to take its soul, cross the barrier, and go get the other six.” Undyne clenched a fist. “No more screwing around. There’s enough souls up there for  _ every _ monster. We won’t hold back. We’ll kill them all,  _ every last one of them.  _ The Surface will belong to monsters, and monsters only. It’s clear now that this world only has room for one of us.”

Sans couldn’t help a grimace. It was all so familiar. Gaster had had the same anger and hatred in his voice all those years ago.

“Sounds like a bright future,” he muttered.

“It’s going to happen one way or another,” Undyne said, lowering her fist. “And I know better than to expect you or the traitor queen or any of the Royalists to change your minds. But that’s fine. I’m not asking you to. If you cooperate, you all will be allowed to stay in the Underground once the war has begun. You’ll be free to do whatever you want--on one condition.”

Sans made himself meet her gaze. It was hard. She was practically radiating ferocity.

“And what is it?”

“We both know that when a human shows up, it’ll be in the Ruins,” Undyne growled darkly. “If Toriel gets hold of it first, she’ll try to protect it. And when that happens, I’ll…”

Undyne trailed off and looked away for a moment, gritting her teeth so hard that Sans could hear them creaking.

“Sans, I don’t  _ want  _ to kill her,” she said, voice raw. “I don’t  _ ever  _ want to kill a monster. But if she tries to protect a human ever again, I’ll have no choice. I need that soul, and I  _ can’t  _ risk another human coming through the Underground a second time. I’ll  _ never  _ let that happen again.”

Sans stared at the flowers surrounding his feet. He could see it, plain as day. He and Toriel had already talked about what would happen the next time a human fell. She would protect the next human with her life this time. She would keep it in the Ruins if she could, and if she couldn’t, she was going to escort it all the way to the barrier--no matter what the Empress or the rest of the Underground might do. Sans had tried to talk her out of it, but Toriel was adamant. As far as she was concerned, she had failed the last human. If she had just gone with the human, she said, she could have prevented them from harming anyone. She could have protected them.

Undyne wouldn’t stand for it. She’d kill Toriel, or Toriel would kill her. And Toriel was all Sans had left.

“Just get to the point, Undyne,” he said quietly. “What do you want me to do?”

He heard her sigh.

“The next time a human falls, I want you to get to it before she does. I want you to capture it and bring it to me.”

Sans couldn’t help but laugh, hard enough that his shoulders shook.

“Man. Just like old times, huh?”

“You don’t have to get your hands dirty. You just have to bring me the human. I’ll do the rest.”

“The murdering part, you mean.”

There was a clank of armor as Undyne took a sudden step forward. Sans’s eyelights snapped up to her, immediately on guard. 

“You don’t get to judge me, you useless sack of  _ shit,”  _ Undyne snarled. “If you had done your fucking  _ job  _ in the beginning, none of this would have happened! We wouldn’t be in this position, and everyone would still be  _ alive! _ Papyrus wouldn’t have--”

She cut herself off, eye going wide. Sans stared at her, expression not changing even a fraction.

The silence that followed was ice cold.

“Say it.”

She glared back at him but remained silent.

“Go on, say it.”

Some part of him needed it. Needed to hear it. 

Blaming himself all on his own wasn’t enough.

Undyne looked away and sighed. She sounded tired. For a split second, she even  _ looked  _ tired.

“We’ve been over that shit already,” she said, voice almost quiet. “I said I didn’t want to argue.”

Sans resisted the urge to ball his hands into fists. He kept perfectly still. Kept his expression perfectly neutral.

“Here’s the bottom line,” Undyne said, tone becoming firm and commanding once more. “The next time a human falls down here, there’s only two ways it’s going to go. One--you catch it and bring it to me. I take its soul and carry out my plans, and Toriel and you and the other Royalists will remain safe and protected. Or two--you protect it with her. And I bring the full force of my armies down on the Ruins. I’ll go through her to get that soul. And I’ll go through you as well if you stand in my way. Delivering the human to me is the only way to protect her and yourself. Understand?”

“It’s not going to happen,” he whispered.

“What?” She narrowed her eye at him. “What did you say? Speak up.”

“I said it’s not going to happen.” He grinned tiredly her. “No other human is ever going to show up.”

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t even going to last much longer.” He stuffed his hands back in his pockets again, too tired to stay on the defense anymore. “It’s all going to end long before another human can show up.”

“You don’t know that.” Undyne took another step toward him, less aggressive this time.

“Actually, I do,” he said, closing his eyesockets. “It’s happened before. It’s probably happened thousands of times. This is just another dead end. Like all the rest. So whether I agree to your ultimatum or not…it won’t even matter.”

“Sans, I don’t--” Undyne shook her head vehemently. “I don’t have time for despair. I just need an answer from you. Now.”

“It’s not despair.” He chuckled a bit. “But alright. Fine.”

“You’ll do it?”

Toriel would never forgive him.  _ Papyrus  _ would never forgive him. But of course none of that mattered. It was never going to happen.

They weren’t even going to remember any of this.

“I’ll do it.”

  
  
  


Toriel had made dinner by the time Sans got home. From the sheer amount of food laid out on the kitchen table, Sans could tell she had been stress-cooking. The house smelled heavenly.

“You got back just in time,” Toriel said as she stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She fixed him with a shaky smile and he felt her Checking him.

“Funny, I’m usually not so  _ pun- _ ctual,” he said, kicking off his shoes and pretending not to notice.

She didn’t react right away, busy confirming that he was still in one piece. But then she laughed, just like always. He smiled at her, and it was almost genuine.

“Well, I am glad you did. I just pulled the last pie out of the oven! We are going to have a lot of leftovers, I think.”

“You know I love leftovers,” he said, winking at her. “I hit the library on the way back home, got another one for you.”

She beamed, clapping her hands together. “Aww, Sans, you did not have to do that! I am still working through the last ones.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, pulling the book out of a pocket. He set it on the growing stack next to her reading chair in the living room. “Just figured you could use some variety.”

“At this rate I am  _ booked  _ solid for the rest of the year! Now, go wash your hands and I’ll set the table.”

Toriel had more integrity than most people Sans had met, but that didn’t mean she was very straightforward. He’d learned plenty about her back when they had simply been friends telling jokes through a door. Rooming together had given him insight into things he couldn’t have before--body language, mannerisms, expressions. She wasn’t good at hiding it when she was upset, but she hid it all the same.

He never pressed. So much had happened. There was so much he didn’t know about what it had been like for her, while the human had been in the Ruins, and the time after they had left the Underground. And there was so much  _ she  _ didn’t know. They never really talked about any of it, and that was fine by Sans. He preferred chatting about the books they were both reading, or trading jokes like the old days.

Dinner was mostly small talk, and Sans thought maybe it would end there. But Toriel also had a habit of getting around to things eventually.

“So,” she finally said when the conversation had worn down and they were working through dessert. “What, ah…what did Empress Undyne want with you, anyway?”

“Oh.” Apple pie. Perfect as always, but sometimes he missed the milkshakes from Grillby’s.

He gave a careless shrug. “Kinda just checking in. Wanted to make sure we still know that we’re traitors, and that we’re only living here by her good graces. Just a lot of yelling, really. Nothing all that o- _ fish- _ al.”

Toriel chuckled a little, but she leaned forward across the table just slightly.

“It just seemed so sudden,” she said. “Two months without any word. I suppose I had been hoping that we had reached a sort of…unspoken truce.”

“Well, she’s not planning on throwing us out or attacking us or anything,” Sans said around a mouthful of pie. “We’re safe. I think she just likes knowing where we are. I guess talking to me was a way to make sure we weren’t up to anything suspicious.”

Toriel was quiet for a moment. Sans glanced over at her and noticed that she was mostly chasing bits of pie around her plate without actually eating them.

“She should know already…she is much better suited to the throne than I would have been. I had no desire for it.” Toriel closed her eyes and sighed. “These days, monsterkind…needs someone like her, I suppose. Someone strong, determined, unwavering. I just wish…”

She trailed off and didn’t complete the thought. Sans said nothing, slowly eating his pie. When he glanced up at her again, she had given up poking at her pie and was staring into the distance.

Or…not into the distance. She was staring at one of the empty chairs at the table.

“Do you want to know something silly?” she said after awhile.

He desperately hoped she meant a joke, but he had a feeling she didn’t.

“Sure, Tori.”

She smiled mirthlessly. “The whole time I was in exile, I never missed Asgore. Or I certainly tried not to. When I would begin to miss him, I would simply remind myself how much I hated what he had become. But it is hard. When you are with someone for so very long, and then you part, even under awful circumstances…a piece of your soul stays with them, I think.”

Sans set down his fork.

“But I would not let myself miss him,” she went on. “And yet now that he is truly gone…I can’t help it. I paid him nary a thought for all those years, and yet…I find myself thinking about him all the time now. I hated what he was, but…I never wanted him to  _ die.” _

It was the most she’d said on the subject the entire time Sans had been here. Sans stared at the table, fingers curled loosely against the wood.

“Anyway,” Toriel said, giving a faint, tired chuckle. “That’s silly, isn’t it?”

“Nah,” he said, looking up at her. She looked as tired as she sounded. “I think that’s normal.”

“You think so?” she smiled gently.

“Sure. Like you said, people keep pieces of us with them.”

And when those people die, they take those pieces with them. But saying that felt like going too far. They’d both been so good about just…moving on and not talking about it. Better to keep it that way. Better not to dig too deep.

“I am sorry for acting so melancholy,” Toriel said, finally taking a bite of pie. “I have been thinking far too much lately. I think I let my silly old mind run away with me while you were at the Capital.”

“Heh, it’s no big deal.” Sans leaned back in his chair. “Sometimes you gotta chase down your mind and let it spill its guts. Uh…that metaphor mighta fallen apart there.”

Toriel laughed. “Oh, and I meant to ask sooner--did you have any time to see your brother while you were there?”

“Yeah,” Sans said without missing a beat, putting on a bright grin. “Same old Papyrus. He loves being a Royal Guard. He’s kinda upset that he has less time to make spaghetti now, though. He said to say hi.”

“What a sweetheart! I do hope I have the chance to meet him someday. It would probably be unwise for him to visit, though.”

“Yeah, he’s stuck at the palace.” Sans shrugged easily. “He says he wants to visit, but his hands are tied. Maybe once things settle down. I’ll bring him a slice of pie or something, next time I go.”

“That is a good idea! I should invent a new recipe, then. Something to celebrate him.  The perfect Pa- _ pie- _ rus!”

That pun had once made Sans laugh so hard his ribs hurt. Now he had to force it. It was like chewing on a stone.

Like choking on dust.

Dinner finished and the rest of the evening went smoothly, both of them lapsing into companionable silence. Toriel read in her chair as usual, while Sans sat at the table and worked through a book of Junior Jumbles. Nostalgia, maybe. It helped with the not thinking.

Sans turned in early, as usual. Toriel was letting him use Asgore’s own room, and Sans had set up a sort of blanket nest in one of the corners. He had tried to sleep in the bed the first few nights, but it had always felt…wrong. Viscerally so. And sleeping in the kid’s old room was out of the question.

Sans lay in his pile of blankets with his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling, listening as Toriel eventually adjourned to her own room. He didn’t think about humans falling into the underground or what he would do if it really happened. He didn’t think about anything. He waited until he was certain Toriel was asleep, then he got up. He teleported out of the house to avoid making any noise, landing near the dead tree out front. Then he started walking, heading deeper into the Ruins.

He had a phone call to make. 

  
  
  


***

 

 

Sans sat cross-legged on the floor of the Void, chin propped on his hand as he idly stared at the glow in the distance. There had been a persistent glow here for awhile now, though Sans wasn’t sure for how long. The rare times that Gaster still spoke to him, he didn’t comment on it, even when Sans asked. It always seemed far away, faint gold and red.

Gaster hadn’t just been uncommunicative lately--he had also been uncreative. He never bothered to try and turn the Void into anything anymore. It was always the same, just the endless blackness and that one spot of color and light. Nothing else. Sans wondered if that meant that Gaster was finally slipping away, finally fading. But if it was possible, wouldn’t it have happened already? Time was meaningless here, after all. He had a feeling that Gaster was just ignoring him. Gaster had to intentionally pull him into these dreams, after all. So clearly he wanted Sans here for some reason. He just wasn’t deigning to explain himself.

Like usual.

Sans watched the light in the distance, eyesockets closing partway.

“I remember sunlight.”

A couple times now, he thought. It was almost becoming rote. Even this particular ending wasn’t very unique. None of them were. It was hard enough just going through the time loops over and over, assuming that everything had been done before, assuming that nothing was permanent. It was worse here, the in-between, when he had to  _ know.  _ He could always remember more while he was in the Void. Once it had been useful.

These days it was just painful. This hadn’t been the first time that Papyrus had died. Not even close. He had very carefully managed to not keep track.

Sunlight, trees, air, wind. Still vague, but  _ there.  _ As present and real as Papyrus’s dust in the snow, and as present and real as his dust not in the snow. Monsters alive, on the Surface, the best possible course of events, the happiest ending, but apparently that wasn’t enough. Monsters dead, but that wasn’t enough either. Everyone dead, some people dead, no one dead. It was all there. All the same. So none of it mattered.

He sighed, and even that just made him more tired.

“Just don’t understand why they’d bother.”

Gaster wasn’t going to answer. There was no point in talking. It was just a waste of energy. He’d be better off just lying down and waiting to wake up back at the start of things. Try not think about anything. Especially not wonder what the next timeline would be like.

Out in the real world he was good at not thinking about things, but in here it was impossible to avoid. A-void, haha. His mind had no choice but to wander while he was here. Not with all the new, awful memories that came roiling through his skull every time he got stuck here between Resets, everything springing into his mind whether he wanted it or not. Hazy details from all the timelines and all the endings, all gathered into a jumbled mess. Sitting around like this wouldn’t help. It never did.

So instead, he dragged himself to his feet and started trudging across the Void toward the distant light. It was something to do. He’d tried to reach it a few times before and had failed every time, waking up before he could get any closer. There was no reason to think it would be different this time.

But there was also no reason for anything at all. And it was something to do.

His feet made no sound at all as he crossed the Void. The only sound was the shifting of his own bones and the sound of his breathing. The light didn’t change. It didn’t shrink away or grow bigger. There was no indication that he was moving at all. It felt almost like he was on a very slow treadmill.

“S’ kinda funny,” he said to nothing, though he was sure that Gaster was listening somewhere. “Used to try so hard to remember things. Now I’d rather just forget. Though I guess…on the  _ bright  _ side, I won’t remember sunlight the next time I see it. Won’t have to know for sure how fake it all is. Almost kinda nice, right? Getting to see it for the first time, over and over.”

The Resets were never going to end. The kid would never be satisfied. That was fine. A long time ago, Sans had wondered how long he could keep this up for. It turned out that the answer was forever. Inertia was like that, and moving through time didn’t have anything like friction to slow him down. The slate was wiped clean with every big Reset, and all Sans was left with was a lot of confusion and guessing. It was only here that it all really started to get to him, and that didn’t matter either. As bad as he felt, he’d always eventually just wake up, not remembering.

So like the Void, this could all just go on forever, for a literal eternity, and he’d have no choice but to keep moving.

Whatever.

“Guess we’re all just stuck in it, huh?” he said, shrugging.

The glow in the distance suddenly winked out. Sans stopped with a sigh. He must be waking up. Finally. 

Then, for some reason, a flower appeared at his feet. A golden flower, casting a very faint circle of light. Sans took an automatic step backward, expecting the flower to have a face and start making snide comments. After a moment, though, he realized it was just a normal flower. Like the ones at the palace.

Sans tilted his head, crouching down in front of the flower. It was probably a trap of some kind, but that didn’t matter either. This was still just a dream, which meant that anything bad that could happen to him would remain here. It wouldn’t affect him on the outside, except for mentally, and that was only if he remembered. Gaster had proved that over the course of years.

He reached out, thinking about poking one of the flower petals, but then frowned and withdrew his hand. As he did so, another faint light appeared in the corner of his vision. He looked up and saw that another glowing flower had appeared a few feet away.

Sans stood back up.

“Huh. So that’s how we’re playing this.”

Clearly Gaster wanted to lead him somewhere. Fine. This was still just something to do, a way to occupy his mind until he finally got out of this damn place.

He walked forward again, moving slowly toward the next flower. Before he could reach it, a third flower had appeared nearby, and then a fourth. He shook his head. It wasn’t very creative, but at least it wasn’t as dark and creepy as Gaster’s usual style. It was even a little relaxing.

Time had no meaning here, so he wasn’t sure how long he walked. He counted ten flowers before he stopped, instead just focusing on walking. It wasn’t too long after that when he suddenly came upon a large bed of golden flowers, all of them casting that faint glow. Pollen floated in the air above, catching the light like dust particles. The smell was heady. Sans crushed down the swell of bitter nostalgia in him. The light reminded him too much of the Surface. This had to be the source of that glow he’d kept seeing off in the distance, the one that looked like sunlight.

He was debating whether to just turn and walk back into the darkness out of pure spite when he spotted something else in the flowers. A small figure was sitting right in the middle, facing away from him. Sans’s first thought was that this made no sense, because Gaster never actually  _ appeared  _ anyway, not in any coherent sort of shape. But this small figure had full color and shape and outline. They looked as real as the flowers surrounding them. They had wild brown hair and they were wearing a green and yellow striped shirt.

He thought for a second that maybe it was one of the others who had fallen, but that didn’t make sense either. He could remember that odd little lizard he’d met on the pier, years ago. They’d been gray, washed out. This person was anything but.

They were a human, he realized. But not the usual human. Even from behind, the profile was a bit different, and their hair was much more wild, full of leaves and pollen.

This… _ none _ of this made any sense. It had to just be some weird sort of construct that Gaster had made. It wasn’t like there could be anyone else here in the Void. Wouldn’t he have seen them before now if that was the case? No, this just had to be some trick, some abstract idea or lesson that Gaster wanted to convey, but couldn’t be bothered to just say outright.

They didn’t seem to have noticed him yet. In fact, they hadn’t moved at all, as if they weren’t even breathing. Sans stuffed his hands into his pockets, still frowning. If this was some stupid message from Gaster, it wasn’t going to go away until he interacted with it.

The most obvious thing to do was to say hi.

“Hey, uh--”

They jerked as if they’d been struck, sitting up straight and then whirling to face him. All he saw of their face was a wide, red eye before red and gold light flooded every corner of his vision. He stepped back, squinting, raising an arm to shield his eyesockets.

_ “You.” _

The voice was completely unfamiliar, rasping and startled and  _ furious. _

_ “YOU. How did you get here? You have no right. NO RIGHT.” _

The light became searing, and Sans had no choice but to close his eyesockets. Even that wasn’t enough. It felt like the light was seeping into his skull.

“Shit, wait--”

He felt something sharp pierce his ribs, carving a gouge along the bone, and god, he remembered that feeling, all at once he could remember it perfectly. He doubled over, clutching his middle and raised a hand to try and defend himself. Another blow struck him right in the sternum, snapping it clean in two.

_ “Get OUT,”  _ the voice roared.  _ “GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT.” _

He saw brilliant, violent red through his eyesockets as he sank to his knees. Whatever it was slashed straight through him and he felt himself crumple. Everything disappeared into sudden white light.

  
  
  


Sans woke up in Snowdin. For some reason, he could smell pollen.


	3. Weathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outside continues to grow and monsters continue to settle in to Surface life. Papyrus works hard. Sans counts birds. The clouds roll in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains descriptions of panic attacks and mental confusion.

There were a lot of firsts on the Surface. That first glimpse of sunlight, the first look at the sky, the first step out of the cave. The first trek down the mountain, the first tent pitched in the forest, the first meal on the Surface. The first conversation with a human who wasn’t Frisk.

It became something to talk about, usually with voices full of excitement and wonder. Monsters would trade stories or anecdotes about the first time they breathed Surface air, or saw a cloud, or watched a sunrise. They became excited over little things, like finding fallen leaves or dew on the tents in the morning. Seeing an interesting animal or insect was worth telling your neighbors about. One time a Froggit had found an actual frog and had brought it to show to the entire campsite. The monsters had been blown away; the frog had mostly just seemed confused.

The first true house of Outside was completed three weeks after leaving the Underground, and belonged to Toriel and Frisk. The two of them had tried to urge the community to build literally anything else first, but pretty much all of monsterkind had insisted. What better gift for the Angel of Monsters and Monster Ambassador, and their mother, the former queen? The house was modest, but comfortable. Toriel had accepted the gift with typical humble grace; Frisk had hidden themselves in their sweater during most of the presentation ceremony. Toriel had then insisted on hosting the first ever house-warming party on the Surface, as a way to thank the community. Most of monsterkind had showed up, turning it into more of a block party than anything.

Sans appeared only long enough to say hello and congrats to Toriel and Frisk, then he slunk away to the edge of things, content to people-watch. It had become one of his favorite pastimes on the Surface. Things had been happening quickly ever since the kid had first appeared in the Underground, and they showed no sign of slowing down. It was better to watch than to try to be part of it. Most monsters were already transitioning from tents to small huts, and a lot of those huts were being converted into cottages and actual houses. Outside was no longer a simple campsite. There were even roads--just packed earth tramped down by rock monsters and earth elementals for now, but they were scheduled for paving. Help from some of the local humans had been instrumental, mostly in terms of planning layouts and making blueprints, but it was monsters doing the actual construction. Sans had overheard one baffled human saying that if monsters were in charge of construction in the city, things would get done in about an eighth of the time. Another human had looked nervous at the prospect.

It was all moving so fast, but Sans had learned by now to just sort of let it wash over him. He’d given up trying to track progress in Outside. Half the time he couldn’t remember what had been completed and what hadn’t, but it didn’t really matter. Things were moving steadily forward--that was all there was to it. And it was hard enough just to get his head around the idea of forward movement. Everything else was details.

At least the block party wasn’t too rowdy. Toriel had made sure of that, all with a few nasty glances in the right directions. Everyone seemed happy, even the small handful of humans who were present. The local groups who had been helping were downright used to monsters at this point, and for the most part, monsters were used to them.

As Sans watched the party from the safety of his favorite folding chair, he heard a sort of cackling call from nearby. He looked upward, turning partway around in the chair, trying to spot the source. Birds were hard to find when they were up in the trees, he had found. A lot of them seemed to blend in with the leaves and branches.

He saw movement along the trunk of one tree. There was a small gray and white bird there, walking straight down the side of the tree, like it simply didn’t care about the laws of gravity. It bobbed in place and gave another weird cackle.

“Sideways bird,” he said to himself and he dug his bird book out of a pocket. He’d seen something about this when he’d been flipping through it the other day. The bird fell silent while he searched through the book, pecking at the bark.

Finally he found the right page and grinned to himself. Even the drawing in the book had the bird perched sideways on a tree.

“Nuthatch,” he said. “The hell kind of a name is that?”

Humans had some really weird names for things, but then again, what did he know? Maybe this particular bird hatched nuts instead of eggs.

“Well, whatever,” he said, dog-earing the page. He looked up at the nuthatch again. “I’m calling you sideways bird.”

He leafed through the book idly, counting the other pages he’d dog-eared. There were eight of them, as well a few bookmarks. He’d been so dubious at first when Steven had mentioned the bird book, because surely there couldn’t be  _ that  _ many different kinds of birds. At least not enough to fill an entire book. It turned out that there were  _ multiple  _ books, and tens of thousands of birds, many of them specific to certain regions of the world. He’d only seen a handful of them.

When he stopped to think about it, the whole thing seemed stupid. He didn’t really  _ care  _ about all these birds. It was just--a way to pass the time. A way to focus. Eight folds in the book meant he’d been up here long enough to see at least eight different kinds of birds. Sometimes, that was enough to get his head back on straight.

Sometimes it wasn’t.

“Ah, hello Sans.”

Sans looked up in surprise. Asgore was walking up to him, holding a paper plate with a slice of pie.

“Oh, forgive me,” Asgore said as he drew level. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your reading.”

“Nah, it’s not a reading sort of book,” Sans said, closing it and slipping it back into a pocket. “How, uh, how you doing?”

Asgore smiled warmly. “Quite well, thank you for asking. It is a lovely party, is it not?”

“Yeah.” Sans watched as a flock of Temmies accosted some poor human. “Kinda far from the action over here, though. Taking a break?”

“Ah, well.” Asgore’s smile turned guilty. “I am afraid that I am not really…welcome at the house.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It is for the best, of course. I am not a part of Toriel’s life anymore. And it is unwise for me to be near humans when it is not necessary for our work.”

There had been a rumor going around Outside, back during the first few days on the Surface. Apparently, Asgore had tried to abdicate the throne shortly after leaving the mountain, saying that he was unfit to rule. Toriel had refused to accept it and had called him a coward for trying to abandon his duties and his people. She had no intention of ever taking the throne again. Asgore would remain king, and the two of them would work together to assist Frisk and ease the transition to the Surface.

If the rumor was true--and Sans was pretty sure that it was--then it made sense. He tried never to look too hard, but when he did, he could see Asgore’s LOVE hovering over him like a shadow. No wonder he thought he was unfit. He was probably waiting for the other shoe to drop, the same way Sans was.

One of these days, some human might come asking about where all those missing children had gotten to.

“Still,” Asgore said, cutting into the awkward silence. “Frisk was kind enough to procure me a slice of pie. It is delicious, is it not?”

Sans put his grin back on. “Yeah, it’s really something. Even better than I imagined.”

It was one of several reasons why he used to wish he could meet her in person, back when she was just a voice through a door. She was as incredible a baker as he’d always believed. Sans had eaten so much pie today that he was probably going to have to skip dinner.

“That is a phrase I have heard often since the barrier came down,” Asgore said, beaming. “So many new things to be experienced. Look at them.”

He gestured back toward Toriel’s house, to the throngs of monsters laughing and celebrating.

“Everyone is so happy. I used to think I would never live to see this day.”

Sans’s soul gave a harsh twist. He was pretty sure the opposite was true. Asgore only  _ ever  _ lived to see this day. It felt like one of those constants, one of those understandings that settled into Sans’s marrow and never left.

“I think a lot of us didn’t,” he said, tone neutral. “But here we are.”

“Here we are indeed,” Asgore said, taking a deep breath, like he was savoring the Surface air. Then he took another bite of pie, looking skyward.

“Hm. It looks like it may rain later.”

“Really?” Sans followed his gaze. The sky had been mottled white-gray the past few days. He hadn’t realized it at first, but apparently the sky did that when there were a lot of clouds. It turned out that the sky had all kinds of different colors, depending on its mood.

“How can you tell?”

“The clouds are darkening,” Asgore said, pointing through the trees. “And the air smells wet. Ah, it has been so long since I have seen the rain. I should go make sure that there are enough tarps for the Hotlanders.”

Asgore finished the last bite of pie and smiled warmly at Sans.

“It was good talking to you again, Sans. We really should have tea sometime.”

Sans grinned up at him. “Guess I’ll take a  _ rain  _ check.”

“Oh ho ho, good one!”

Sans watched the king walk away, then looked back up at the sky. The clouds really did look darker than before, less mottled and more uniform in color. It seemed a little absurd. Logically, scientifically, the idea of precipitation made perfect sense. But water falling from the sky sounded like the kind of thing that parents made up to trick their kids.

He’d seen rain on TV, though. It seemed like it was just a more widespread version of the drippy ceilings in Waterfall. Not all that exciting.

Sans spent another hour watching the party and dozing here and there. By then, things were starting to wind down, and the sky had gotten even darker. Sans headed back to the small hut that he shared with Papyrus. They’d moved in a few days ago, after Papyrus had clamored for a bit more space than just the tent. It was still tight quarters, but at least they weren’t sleeping on the ground anymore.

Papyrus probably wouldn’t be home yet. Sans had seen him briefly at the party, but he’d left hours ago, insisting that he had important ambassador work to get back to. Sans was seeing less and less of him these days. They’d said maybe ten words between the two of them today. That was fine. They were on the Surface, probably. Sans had always known that Papyrus’s life would take him in a vastly different direction if they ever made it up here, a direction that led very far away from Sans.

It was fine. Papyrus was happy. That was all that mattered. Better to finally just let him go.

The hut was basically a glorified shed, cut into two rooms by a fabric partition and warmed exclusively with the hotplate they used for cooking. Papyrus had a lantern on his side, while Sans contented himself with a lava lamp on his own side, purely for irony’s sake. There was one window with a screen and a shutter; the roof was rusty sheet metal. It wasn’t flush with the walls, so there were gaps here and there, as well as spots where the metal had rusted straight through. Papyrus had already patched the worst of them with duct tape. It occurred to Sans that water falling from the sky would probably get in the remaining holes, so he set about trying to tape up a few more. Papyrus might even be impressed that Sans had bothered to do any work at all.

He left the window shutter open and the hotplate turned off. It was getting chilly, but skeletons were better about those sort of things than most, and Sans pretty much lived in his hoodie. Sans flopped down on his cot and checked his phone. No bars. Every so often people could get a signal somewhere in Outside, but it was weak and sporadic. Alphys was working on setting up a cell network, as well as the WiFi. 

With nothing else to do, Sans went back to his bird book, mostly just flipping through it and admiring the colorful pictures. He’d been through the whole thing maybe a dozen times now, but it was a good way to jog his memory. It was also kind of fun to wonder about who had the time and patience to draw all those birds.

 

 

 

At some point, the boredom got to Sans and he drifted off to sleep for real. He woke up in the Void.

He lay on his back in the darkness, frowning vaguely up at nothing. This was odd. Three--four?--weeks now and this was the first Void dream. It had all been normal, vague, hard to remember dreams and the occasional nightmare this whole time.

“Doc?”

No answer. He couldn’t even feel the doctor anywhere nearby. That seemed normal. Memories trickled back to him in a slow, steady flow, like rising water. He hadn’t seen the doctor in awhile.

There  _ was  _ something that should be here, however, something…else. Sans sat up slowly and looked around, but there was no glow, no light anywhere. He couldn’t sense anything. Just endless dark and quiet.

Sans draped his hands in his knees. He’d forgotten until now, but it was coming back to him. Something  _ else.  _ Someone. A person.

The doctor wasn’t the only one in the Void.

And it wasn’t one of the others, either, all those people whose names he couldn’t remember. Except hadn’t he had that thought before?

Didn’t matter.

He squinted into the darkness, half expecting that green and yellow stranger to just leap out at him. They’d seemed awful unfriendly last time.

Green and yellow. Stripes. So it had to be a kid, whoever it was. Or the projection of a kid. The Void was mutable, relying on implication and metaphor. Things in here were never as they seemed.

“You there, kid?”

Nothing. No answer.

Sans closed his eyesockets, concentrating for a moment. When he opened them again, he let the eye flair to life. Even here, asleep and in the Void, it still hurt to use. Still felt like slamming a nail into his skull.

He’d gotten a little better at using it, though he wasn’t sure why or how. There were fainter memories, darker memories that kept trying to creep back in, that he held off with what little willpower he had. Dark, drippy caverns and quiet singing. Howling wind. Golden light. Something red dripping onto tiles.

Didn’t matter either.

It took a moment of looking through the eye, but the Void around him began to ripple and move. Sans reached up to cover his right eyesocket. Trying to force the eye never worked and tended to hurt worse, but sometimes a little encouragement helped.

As Sans watched, a single golden flower bloomed in the distance.

He started to get to his feet, but then there was a loud bang from close by.

“SANS, THERE YOU ARE! WAKE UP!”

Sans awoke with a jolt, eyesockets snapping open. He blinked at the ceiling. It was completely unfamiliar. This wasn’t his bedroom.

“GET UP, YOU LAZYBONES!” Papyrus was saying, hands on his hips as he frowned down at Sans. “IT IS STILL DAYTIME!”

“Uh.” Sans sat up slowly, rubbing at his skull and looking around. He was in a small room, divided in two by a sort of curtain. There was a lava lamp and a few books on the floor. No trash tornado, no treadmill, no piles of socks. Even the bed was wrong, a cot with proper sheets and blankets.

“Where--?”

“I only have a LITTLE BIT OF TIME TO SPARE, so I thought I would make some spaghetti!” Papyrus said, retreating back behind the partition. “I need to be SURE you are eating well in my absence, after all! SANS, WHAT HAVE I SAID ABOUT LEAVING THE WINDOW OPEN? It’s drafty ENOUGH in here already!”

“Uh--sorry.”

Sans swung his legs over the side of his cot, staring at the floor. God, even the  _ floor _ was wrong, a combination of concrete blocks and ill-fitting wooden slabs. And Papyrus was right--there was a wicked draft coming in through the single window.

Sans got to his feet, trying to think. Papyrus was acting normal, which meant this  _ was _ normal, or at least something Papyrus was used to. This obviously wasn’t their house, and despite the draft, it wasn’t nearly cold enough to be Snowdin. There were trees out the window, lit by more ambient light than Sans had ever seen underground.

All of that put together meant…something. It was supposed to make sense. And if it made sense, if it was normal, then Sans couldn’t exactly ask about it. Papyrus would think something was wrong.

Sans stepped past the partition and watched as Papyrus switched on a hotplate and set a small saucepan full of water on top. No kitchen. Barely a house at all. Sans went to the window, trying to get a better view. Trees. Orange and yellow leaves. Small huts and rows of tents. There was a-- _ bird _ perched on one of the roof of the hut next door, ruffling its black feathers. Right. A crow. It was called a crow, and it was normal.

All of this was normal.

“SANS, ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING?”

“What?” Sans blinked and turned away from the window. Papyrus looked up from making spaghetti long enough to glare at him.

“Sorry, uh. I’m still waking up,” Sans said, putting on a casual grin. “What were you saying?”

“I was SAYING that the humans have told me that are going to have to DELAY in paving the roads,” Papyrus said, rolling his eyelights. “Something about the weather? They TRIED to explain it, but it made VERY LITTLE sense! And also, I asked how the party was after I left!”

Humans. Weather. Party.

The Surface.

“Oh,” Sans said, blinking again. “Yeah, no, it was fine. Lotta fun.”

What had they been celebrating? Something about Toriel and Frisk?

“Lotsa pie,” Sans went on, moving away from the window and sitting down in his chair. “Might not even have room for spaghetti, heh.”

“Then we will have leftovers!” Papyrus said with delight, and he pointed to a rectangular object on the ground. “Look, Sans! I have acquired…AN ICEBOX!”

Sans studied it for a moment. Right, because they didn’t have a refrigerator. Because--this was the Surface, and Alphys was still trying to figure out the…the power situation, and a cell network, and internet, and all the rest of it.

“Now we can actually KEEP food instead of just having to GOBBLE IT DOWN RIGHT AWAY!” Papyrus went on. “We are moving UP in the world!”

“Yeah,” Sans said with a faint chuckle. “Literally, even.”

“UGH!” Papyrus shook his head. “Anyway, did you do anything else today, brother? PLEASE don’t just say ‘slept’!”

Sans stared at the back of Papyrus’s skull. What had he done today? He couldn’t remember. Even the dream was hazy. The Void, a flower…

“Nothing much,” Sans said, frowning suddenly and glancing back into his side of the hut. The book right next to his cot had a picture of several birds on the cover.

_ Sideways bird. _

“I saw a bird,” Sans said, going over to pick up the book.

“OOH! WHAT KIND OF BIRD?”

There were a few dog-eared pages in the book. Eight of them. Eight birds. Like tally marks.

He flipped to the right page, then turned the book outwards so Papyrus could see it.

“Nuthatch,” Sans said, tapping the picture. “It was like, sideways on the tree. Like this. Pretty cool, actually.”

“That sounds fake!” Papyrus said, but he was smiling. “The Surface is WEIRD!”

“Heh, yeah.”

“That reminds me, I saw another…” Papyrus trailed off, frowning again. He squinted at Sans. “Sans, are you making that sound?”

“What sound?”

“That hissing and--”

Something plinked against the roof, then another something. It became a steady pattering sound, with a low hissing in the background. Sans and Papyrus both looked up at the ceiling.

“I guess that isn’t you,” Papyrus said, looking baffled.

“Sounds like something hitting the roof.”

“That’s too many somethings to be pinecones!” Papyrus set the lid on the saucepan and went to the door. Sans put his book back down on his cot, then followed his brother. Papyrus pushed the door open, then immediately stopped, staring out at the world. Sans tried to peer out past him.

“What is it?”

“Something is happening,” Papyrus said, voice low and quiet. Sans scooted next to him.

Outside, liquid was dripping from above, coming down in silvery sheets. It was steady, and it pattered on roofs and on the leaves of the trees, leaving tiny indents when it hit the ground.

It wasn’t familiar, but Sans thought he could remember something about this. He started to reach his hand out the door.

Papyrus seized his wrist.

“Sans, no!” Papyrus said, giving him a wide-eyed stare. “What are you doing? What if it’s dangerous?”

“It’s not,” Sans said, gently undoing Papyrus’s fingers. “It’s rain. Look.”

He reached out, despite Papyrus’s quiet little groan of concern. Drops of water hit his phalanges and rolled down to his metacarpals. It was like reaching into a shower, except that the water was cool, and it didn’t seem to be falling quite that hard or fast.

Sans watched as the raindrops hit his hand, then squeezed past Papyrus and stepped the rest of the way out. He felt water hit his skull in a soft spray. There were small puddles forming in the packed earth of the road just out the door. Sans looked around. The world had gone grayish, but all the greens and oranges and yellows and browns of the trees around them seemed to pop, suddenly bright and alive.

It wasn’t anything like a drippy ceiling.

“Sans?”

Sans could feel wetness seeping through his hoodie but he turned back to Papyrus with a grin.

“Bro, come out here.”

“But what is it?” Papyrus said, casting a suspicious look upwards. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s rain.” Sans spread his fingers, letting drops run through them. “It’s just water, bro. It comes from the clouds. It’s something that happens on the Surface.”

_ They were on the Surface. _

“Heh.” Sans grinned despite himself. “Come on. It’s safe.”

Papyrus looked upwards again, then finally stepped out of the door, raising one hand. He flinched a little when the first drops hit his hand, eyesockets widening again in surprise. Then he stepped the rest of the way out.

“Oh, it’s…it’s sort of like a shower,” Papyrus said slowly. “But…bigger?”

Sans could see a few other monsters poking heads or limbs out of tents and doorways, trying to figure out what was happening. This had to be the first rain on the Surface. Everyone seemed to be reacting as if they’d never seen it before.

And Sans was sure he would remember something like this.

“It smells nice,” Papyrus said, starting to smile a little.

“Yeah.” It was sort of like a damp cave, but earthier somehow. Greener.

“Water just falls from the sky like this?” Papyrus said, looking up again. “How?”

“I dunno.” A few drops rolled into Sans’s eyesockets so he dabbed them away with a sleeve. “It’s part of ‘weather.’ Kinda like snow. Don’t really know how it works up here--it’s not like when it would snow underground. It’s cool, though, right?”

Papyrus’s smile broadened. “Yes, it is…very cool.”

It was beautiful, in a strange sort of way. Unfamiliar, but not frightening. Sans felt almost like he could just stand out here forever, watching the rain fall. There was something peaceful about it. Calming. Grounding.

He was getting uncomfortably wet, however. And it was starting to rain harder.

“Is it going to do this forever?” Papyrus asked, a note of concern back in his voice.

“I don’t think so.” Sans shook himself out like a dog. “Weather is the kind of thing that changes a lot.”

He moved back toward the doorway. There was no reason he couldn’t watch the rain from the comfort of their dry hut. The building was warm from the hotplate. There was a dripping sound, and Sans quickly spotted a leak in the ceiling on Papyrus’s side. Sans found a bowl and set it under the leak before the puddle could get any worse.

Papyrus reappeared in the doorway, wiping raindrops off his skull.

“What happens if it rains too much?”

He spotted the leak and made a tutting sound. Sans dragged his chair over to the doorway, unfolding it.

“Uh, I think it floods,” he said, sitting down. “But if that happens, we can all just climb the mountain again until it stops.”

“Hmm,” Papyrus said and Sans heard him tramping around the hut. “Oh no, it’s getting in through the window! SANS! I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO CLOSE IT!”

There was a clattering sound as Papyrus closed the shutter.

“Sorry.”

“At least it’s just the one leak. I knew it was a smart idea to patch all those holes! Oh, but did you have to use one of our bowls? We only have two!”

“That’s okay. I had a lotta pie at the party. Save me some in the icebox, yeah?” Sans said over his shoulder.

“Are you just going to sit and watch the raining?”

“Yeah,” Sans said, smiling to himself. “It’s relaxing.”

“You could use FEWER relaxing things in your life!” Papyrus said, going back to his spaghetti. “You’ll need to move soon, I have to go back to work.”

“Can’t you take a rain day or somethin’?”

It could be really nice. Papyrus wasn’t one for sitting still, but if Sans could get him to watch the rain with him for just a little while, it’d really be something. Like when they’d watch MTT shows back underground. Just quiet bro time.

“NO AMOUNT OF WATER FROM THE SKY-CEILING WILL PREVENT THE GREAT PAPYRUS FROM HIS DUTIES!”

Sans stifled a sigh. “Alright, bro. Just try to stay dry when you go back out there.”

It was fine. The rain was nice, and Sans felt much better than he had a few minutes ago. It felt like his head was back on straight. Even the dream didn’t bother him right now.

He fell silent and settled in to watch the rain.

  
  
  


***

 

 

The rain stopped for a little while overnight, but by morning it was coming down steadily again. The sun didn’t even seem to rise at all, which would have been more concerning if Sans didn’t have a cursory understanding of cloud cover. Some of his neighbors weren’t as lucky, chattering among themselves as they worried over where the sun had gone.

It was hard to get anything done in the rain, at least anything that involved going outdoors. Sans chanced a quick trip to Grillby’s food stand for lunch, grabbing a few extra meals when he remembered the icebox. The hotplate and Papyrus’s tiny saucepan didn’t produce nearly the volume of spaghetti that Papyrus was used to. At least food wasn’t technically scarce. Grillby and a lot of the other former restaurant owners, including Muffet, were working tirelessly to provide food for all of Outside. It was just hard to keep food secure. Monster food didn’t go bad, but it could attract bugs or get dirty. And now with the rain, damp was becoming a problem.

Sans tucked a couple Grillby meals into the icebox, then switched on the hotplate and hung his hoodie from the ceiling to dry. Another leak had appeared in the ceiling while he’d been out. Sans tried to tape it back up, but it wouldn’t stick to the wet metal. He broke down and just left one of their cups to collect water.

At least watching the rain wasn’t getting old. It involved sitting and not doing anything, two of Sans’s favorite activities. Better yet, it was constant proof of where they were.

Papyrus was gone all day. He, Toriel, Asgore, Frisk and some of the humans worked out of a large community tent toward the center of Outside, doing whatever the hell ambassador-types did. Sans knew there were cots there, and if the rain was bad enough, Papyrus might just not come back tonight. Which meant it was up to Sans to feed himself and keep an eyesocket out for leaks.

That was simple enough. It was nice to have a day where he was pretty much expected to be lazy. All the other nearby monsters seemed to be staying inside as well, except for monsters native to Waterfall. Packs of Aarons were having flexing wars while out in the rain, and Shyren wandered up and down the streets, singing happily to herself.

The sky began to get darker around midday, the clouds above going from a sort of dishwater gray to more slate-colored. It was around then that Frisk appeared. Sans was trying to patch up another leak when he heard a knock at the door. Frisk was wearing a yellow raincoat and holding a multicolored umbrella, as well as a tote bag that was almost as big as they were. They smiled just a little when Sans opened the door. 

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, grinning at them. “Staying dry?”

“Mm-hmm,” they said, nodding. “I was. Going to ask you the same thing. Are, um. Are you okay?”

“Me, sure. Got damp going to get lunch, but I’ll live. It’s really nice, actually.” Sans’s grin softened, despite himself. “It’s damp and cold and kinda weird, but I like it. It’s cool to watch.”

Frisk’s smile flickered briefly into something a little brighter.

“Okay. Good. Um, cause, a lot of monsters don’t really understand what’s going on, and some were scared, so.”

“Heh, well thanks for checking in.”

“Um, and me and Tor--and Mom, we’re handing out these to everyone. Here.”

Frisk set their tote bag down and dug out a folded-up tarp and two retractable umbrellas. They held them out to Sans.

“Aw, jeez, that’s awesome,” Sans said, taking them. “This is super helpful. Our ceiling’s kind of full of holes, heh.”

“Mm-hmm. Some of the humans. Donated a bunch of rain stuff, this morning.”

“Nice of ‘em.”

It never stopped being surprising, really. So many humans were going so far out of their way to be helpful.

“D’you wanna come in outta the rain for a bit?” Sans asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “I snagged some hot cocoa packets from Grillby.”

Frisk’s smile wavered. They fidgeted with the sleeves of their raincoat. The coat was a bit small on them, and Sans could see the sleeves of their sweater poking out, green and yellow.

No--blue and purple. That sweater they always wore was blue and purple. 

Huh. Maybe his vision was going funny, along with the rest of him. 

“Um. Thank you,” Frisk said after a beat. “That’s okay. I have to hand the rest of these out.”

“Sure, kid.” Sans shrugged as casually as possible. “Some other time.”

“Uh-huh. See you later.”

They picked up their tote bag and scampered off to the next hut. Sans watched them approach the door and knock on it. Then he ducked back inside.

Sometimes it really seemed like Frisk was scared of him.

Sans set the umbrellas down and unfolded the tarp, looking up at the ceiling. He could probably spread it across the ceiling and tape it there, but it might just collect water and eventually collapse. Terrible idea. Better to just drape it over the roof and secure it to the outer walls with some tree branches or something.

By the time he stepped back out into the rain, Frisk had disappeared. Sans pretended not to notice.

Getting the tarp over the roof would be difficult. They’d made sure to set it at least six feet high, so Papyrus wouldn’t have to stoop too much. It was much too high for Sans to reach. He could probably just teleport up onto the roof, set it up that way.

No.

He’d have to just go with luck. Sans stepped back, gathered all four corners of the tarp, aimed for an edge of the roof and then threw one end of it as high as he could. Miraculously, it worked on the first try, the other end of the tarp sailing over the opposite side of the hut. Sans almost let go of it completely in his surprise.

It took only a few minutes to arrange the tarp as best he could, but the rain was picking up. It was starting to get windy as well. Sans was thoroughly drenched by the time he went back indoors. Sans huddled closer to the hotplate, hugging himself to keep from shivering. The rain was turning into a downpour. It was dark enough outside that it almost looked like night was already coming.

Sans was just starting to warm up when there was a flash of light outside. He frowned and got to his feet, cracking open the door and peering out. It was probably just a neighbor using magic, but there was no one about. Sans looked up and down the road, wondering if it had been headlights.

Seemingly out of nowhere, there came a low, rolling rumble from the distance. It was far away, and sounded a little like a car or truck, but magnified several times. It seemed to roll slowly through the forest before fading.

Sans frowned to himself. Cars didn’t sound quite like that. Maybe it was an animal? But that didn’t make much sense either. Bird calls and animal cries tended to have a clear direction to them, and they didn’t roll around that much. It had sounded more like a distant rockfall than anything, or a minor earthquake.

It was raining, though. They were on the Surface. No rockfalls. Earthquakes, yes, but the ground hadn’t trembled. Sans hadn’t felt an earthquake in a good while now.

It had to be the Surface, because it was raining. Nothing was like this, not even Waterfall.

Sans was about to close the door when he saw a bright flash that lit up part of the sky, lasting barely a split second. He jumped, his soul fluttering in his ribcage, and he instinctively slammed the door closed. Lights in the sky. Okay. Definitely the Surface. He’d seen airplanes overhead, and they made that sort of roaring sound, but they also didn’t flash that brightly. It could be magic, but everyone in Outside would have felt a display that big and bright, Sans included. Sans went to the window, but it was obscured by the tarp.

Several seconds later, there was another rumble. Like before, it rolled in from the distance, grumbling its way through the trees, then fading to silence.

Sans sat down next to the hotplate.

“It’s fine,” he said quietly. “Just some Surface thing.”

He was sure he had read something like this, but like everything else, it was hard to remember. Something to do with rain and weather. Lights and noise in the sky. A weather thing. Something normal. Nothing to worry about.

There was a long period of silence. Sans realized he was hugging himself and let go, making a face. Stupid. He was getting tense over nothing. Whatever it was seemed like it was already over. And besides, it was still raining, and that was still nice to hear.

Another flash, and light poured in through the remaining cracks in the walls and ceilings, illuminating the tarp neon blue. Sans flinched hard enough that he almost knocked over the hotplate, letting out a small gasp before he could stop himself.

The flashes were connected to the noise. That made sense--there was something scientific to it. So there would be a noise coming in a few seconds. Light travelled faster than sound.

There it was, several seconds later, just like before. He was ready for it, but it was louder this time. This time it really did sound like an earthquake, without the shaking and cracking of stone. When the sound faded, Sans heard a faint rattling sound. It took him a moment to realize the sound was coming from him. He was shaking.

Sans tucked his knees up to his chest. He was being ridiculous. Clearly this was something that was going to keep happening. He needed to get a hold of himself, just get used to it, get over it. It wasn’t like it was that bad. He’d been through much, much worse. 

He wondered where Papyrus was. Probably still at his sentry station--no. No, he would be at the ambassador tent. Still working, no doubt.

He might be scared. Papyrus was incredibly cool, but he still got scared of certain things. At least there would be other people there with him. Asgore, probably Undyne, maybe Toriel. Maybe Alphys. Sans was pretty much the only one who wasn’t working, worthless sack of bones that he was. Papyrus was probably--

_ Flash.  _ This one was brighter, sharper.

_ light surrounds him, the unforgettable sound, the smell of torn leaves, the world goes white-- _

Sans covered his head with his hands and squeezed his eyesockets shut.

It was fine. It was  _ fine. _ He was being so stupid. It was just light. It wasn’t going to hurt him. He should just get up, should be making sure the wind wasn’t going to blow the tarp off. Papyrus would be so mad if they got more leaks. Sans should just get up and make himself actually useful.

The rumble was louder this time, but Sans hardly even noticed. At least the sound was predictable. He could brace for it. 

Maybe…maybe he should try to go to the ambassador tent. Make sure Papyrus was okay, just in case. He had an umbrella. He could walk there. It wasn’t even that far away.

Hell, he could just teleport there. Probably. If he could get his head out of his metaphorical ass. If the idea of trying to teleport didn’t scare him even more than the stupid flashes of light.

No, no teleporting. But he could walk. It was fine. He could do it.

He started to unfold himself, but then there was another flash of light.

_ something wrapped around his soul, laughter, a yank, a bright flash-- _

“Nope,” he said, voice thin. He covered his head again. In the distance, he thought he could hear a child crying.

Wonderful. At least he could join ranks with literal children. He was certainly rattling like one.

He thought of Papyrus again as another rumble passed through the forest. He should at least go check on him. At least give the bare minimum of effort that was expected of a big brother. Just in case Papyrus really was scared. And hell, maybe they’d have a spare cot at the ambassador tent, and Sans could just crash there. The tent was a better quality than the others in Outside, so maybe it would even block out the flashes of light.

A braver person would already be out there, looking for Papyrus.

_ A braver person would never have let him die. _

Stupid. This was the Surface. Papyrus had never technically died, not in this timeline.

Like that made it okay.

He needed to get up. He needed to go find his brother. He needed… He just needed to be with him.

The flash was even brighter this time, and it was immediately followed by a sound like the entire world cracking in half. Air seemed to  _ shatter,  _ and the walls of the hut shook as the sound roared through the town, crackling as it went.

“Oh, god.”

The world was ending again. This was it. The Reset was here. This had to be what it sounded like. Everything ending, the frayed string of existence dangling out into white nothing. All of existence roaring in agony as it was cut short. He could almost feel himself slowly ripping apart, slowly being dragged backward.

When Sans came back to himself, he was curled in a ball on the floor of the hut, shivering and muttering Papyrus’s name.

He winced and squeezed his eyesockets shut, pressing his forehead to his knees. Surface. He was still on the Surface. It was just the rain. Just weather.

Papyrus wasn’t here. Not dead, no. Alive. Papyrus was alive.

He just wasn’t here.

  
  


At some point, Sans must have simply passed out. He was still curled up in the middle of the floor when he woke up, groggy, skull pounding. There was a faint hiss that meant it was still raining, and Sans could hear footsteps approaching. The light and the noise seemed to have stopped. Sans closed his eyesockets and pressed his forehead to the damp wood of the floor, silently relieved.

Sans was starting to uncurl himself when the door opened. Papyrus walked in, looking damp and tired, dark circles under his eyesockets.

“Papyrus?”

Sans bolted up into a sitting position and immediately regretted it, clutching at his skull.

“Ow.”

“Sans, what are you doing on the floor?” Papyrus demanded. “Were you SLEEPING in the middle of the floor? SANS, AT LEAST USE YOUR BED!”

Sans winced and waved his hand vaguely in Papyrus’s direction.

“Ugh, don’t shout,” he muttered. “Bro, what… Where were you last night?”

“I spent the night in the ambassador tent,” Papyrus said, yawning. “It was NOT very comfortable. But Asgore insisted that I not try to walk home in the storm.”

“The…” Sans pulled his hand away from his skull, peering up at Papyrus. “The storm?”

That. That was the word for it.

“Yes, all that noise and light and rain and wind last night! It is called a ‘storm’!” Papyrus gave Sans a curious look. “I thought you said you knew about weather?”

“I…yeah, sorta.”

“It was very frightening at first,” Papyrus said with a bit of a shudder. “But then Asgore’s Clone--I mean Toriel, was kind enough to explain it to me! The noise is called THUNDER and the light is called LIGHTNING! And it…happens sometimes when it rains? I don’t fully understand it. But it was VERY noisy and startling! Fortunately, Toriel explained that it was NOTHING to worry about. NOT THAT SHE NEEDED TO! NOTHING SCARES THE GREAT PAPYRUS!”

Sans draped his arms over his knees.

“Yeah. Heh. I knew you’d be alright.”

Stupid. He was so damn stupid. Papyrus had been with people, people who could explain what was happening and comfort him, calm him down. He hadn’t needed Sans at all.

“OF COURSE I AM ALRIGHT!” Papyrus started pulling off his scarf so he could hang it from the ceiling. He paused and tilted his head at Sans. “What about you? Are you alright? A lot of monsters were VERY scared!”

Sans put on a lopsided grin and propped his chin in his hand, winking up at Papyrus.

“I’m way too lazy to get scared.”

Papyrus gave him a dubious look.

“You have dark circles under your eyesockets,” he pointed out.

“So do you.”

“Well! It is hard! To sleep when it is so noisy! OF COURSE, THE GREAT PAPYRUS NEEDS VERY LITTLE SLEEP AS IT IS!”

Sans chuckled a little.

“Sans, on the other hand, needs at least eighteen hours. Think I’ll get back to it. After breakfast. Oh, uh, I left some extra food from Grillby’s in the icebox, if you want.”

“EW! PASS! AND DON’T TAKE UP SPACE IN THE ICEBOX WITH GARBAGE! It’s supposed to be for spaghetti leftovers!”

“Oh. Okay, uh. Fair enough.”

Sans dragged himself upright, trying to ignore the way his skull pounded. It was almost like he was hungover. Probably had something to do with the storm. Air pressure or something. He trudged over to the icebox and pulled out one of Grillby’s meals. He deserved a burger for breakfast after last night.

Sans started reheating the burger on the hotplate while Papyrus changed into fresher clothes.

“Did Asgore or anyone say whether it was gonna storm again?” Sans asked, voice perfectly casual.

“They said it might!” Papyrus said, smiling in satisfaction as he pulled on a dry shirt. “But hopefully not! It’s going to be another busy day!”

Sans looked over at him. “Wait, you’re not staying?”

Papyrus scoffed. “I just came back to change into dry clothes! I told you, brother, A MASCOT’S WORK IS NEVER DONE!”

“Uh, but…” Sans kept his smile in place and fidgeted with the dial on the hotplate. “What if it does storm again?”

“Then we will find a way to work through it!” Papyrus selected a different scarf from his bag of clothing. “We are doing some very IMPORTANT talking! They are called…NEGOTIATIONS! NYEH HEH!”

“Okay.”

Papyrus’s phone alarm went off and he grinned brightly and turned it off.

“And with that! I MUST BE OFF! Oh, did Frisk leave these?” Papyrus asked, picking up one of the umbrellas.

“Yeah.”

“SUCH A GREAT HUMAN! ALMOST AS GREAT AS ME!” Papyrus headed for the door. “OH, AND IF YOU SEE THEM BEFORE ME, TELL THEM THANK YOU FOR SETTING UP THE TARP SO THOROUGHLY! IT IS SO NICE TO HAVE NO MORE LEAKS!”

“I’ll let ‘em know,” Sans said, but Papyrus was already gone.

Sans turned the burger over on the hotplate. It was fine. Didn’t matter. If it stormed again and Sans panicked himself unconscious a second time, that didn’t matter either. They were on the Surface, and it was just yet another thing he was going to have to get used to.

Papyrus was busy and happy.  _ Everyone _ was busy and happy. They were all moving forward.

Maybe it was inevitable that Sans was falling further and further behind. He’d never been any good at keeping up with anything or anyone. Papyrus would have outstripped Sans years and years ago, if not for Sans constantly holding him back. Now Papyrus didn’t have to slow down anymore. No one did. Everyone was free.

Everyone but Sans.

There was a cawing sound somewhere above the hut, bringing Sans back to reality. He shook himself out. No point in wallowing. He’d just do what he always did--coast along until something tripped him up and sent him reeling.

He pulled his chair back in front of the door and sat down, munching his burger. He pinched off a tiny piece of bun and tossed it out into the rain.

A few moments later, the crow swooped down and landed on the road. Sans watched it greedily snap up the morsel, then bob its head a few times in Sans’s general direction. Sans tossed it another tiny piece of bread. It snapped that up as well, then ruffled its feathers and flapped away.

Crows, rain, thunder and lightning. They’d been on the Surface now for…well, it didn’t really matter. Long enough to see eight birds and a storm.

“Not like I’m not used to weathering things,” Sans said to himself and grinned faintly.

In the distance, there was a quiet rumble of thunder. 


	4. LOAD 04975: Ending #??: Could Be Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of them last a long time. The waiting gets to you. Sans meets something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains **alcoholism** and violence.

Sans sat at his usual stool in Grillby’s, pretending not to listen to Redbird and Fisher chattering next to him.

“I think that’s the idea,” Redbird was saying, slurring a bit. “That little human’s out there somewhere, spreading the world, I mean the word, about how…how great monsters are, right?”

“Right,” Fisher said with an almost sage nod.

“There’s probably all kinds of human mages,” Redbird went on. “The human will find them and--and then those mages will probably reverse the spell. That’s the idea.”

“But…I dunno,” Fisher said, leaning heavily on the bar and turning his glass back and forth. “Just seems so uncertain. Like, with the souls and all, at least that was a guarantee, yanno?”

“The human was super nice though. They liked us, like as, as like, people.”

“Yeah? I mean…they weren’t very talkative.”

“But they were  _ nice,” _ Redbird insisted, spreading their wings a bit for emphasis. “They were so helpful? It’s like, the whole thing is that, is that humans aren’t as bad as we thought, right? That’s the Queen’s whole, uh, whole point. So they wouldn’t just, yanno, they wouldn’t forget about us. They’d do something. Humans must have all kinds of weird magic and technology, so they could all, they’ll figure something out.”

Fisher nodded slowly, contemplating this.

“Yeah…maybe you’re right. They wouldn’t forget us, I think.”

“I’m totally always right,” Redbird said triumphantly.

“And anyway, it could be worse.”

“Yeah, haha! I’ll drink to that!”

They clinked their glasses together and both took a deep drink. Redbird finished theirs off completely.

Sans stared into his own drink, a placid smile on his face.  _ It could be worse.  _ He’d heard that so many times these past few months. It could be worse. It could be  _ way _ worse. None of them had any real idea just how much worse it could really be.

Redbird and Fisher kept on chatting, and this time Sans really didn’t listen. He finished off his own drink and waved Grillby down for another. Grillby took his glass away and paused before filling a new one.

“This’ll be your fifth,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” Sans said with a shrug.

Grillby carefully set the new drink in front of him and Sans wasted no time in taking a sip.

“You’ll be cut off after this,” Grillby said.

“Nah, I can go six tonight,” Sans said. The world was spinning gently and fuzzing at the edges, but he was remarkably coherent, at least verbally.

“Sober Sans says you’re cut off at five,” Grillby said firmly. “And so does his brother.”

“Nah, I just got a message from Sober Sans,” Sans said, grinning and pulling out his phone. He tapped out a text message and then held it up to show Grillby. “See, he says I can go six. Special night. Three months to the day since we went from a King to a Queen. It’s like, uh…a holiday.”

Grillby squinted at the text message Sans had literally typed two seconds ago.

“This just says ‘get moe drink.’ You misspelled ‘more.’”

“It’s text speech, Grillbz,” Sans said with a bright grin. “I’m keeping up with the times.”

“Drunk Sans doesn’t get a say in how many drinks he gets,” Grillby said with an air of finality, stepping away. Sans opened his mouth to protest again, but there was no point. Grillby couldn’t be reasoned with. Plus he was too far away now.

Five would be fine, he supposed. It was probably for the best. Sober Sans was the smarter one. And the sadder one, which was the real problem.

“It’s really three months to the day?” Redbird asked, turning to Sans. Sans propped his chin on his hand and sort of rolled his head to look over at them.

“Yep.”

The only reason he knew it with such certainty was because it was also two months to the day since he had called the kid and left a message on their phone.

“You’d think something would have happened in three months,” Fisher said, doubt back in his voice.

“Haha, well maybe, uh, maybe they just need to find more mages,” Redbird said.

“Ehh,” Sans said, leaning more heavily on his hand. “I’d put more trust in the Royal Scientist. Between her and Undyne, we’ll probably be punching our way out of the mountain in no time.”

“Hey, yeah!” Redbird said, brightening. “I forgot all about that!”

“Same,” Fisher said. “No one ever hears from Dr. Alphys anymore. Do we even know she’s working on…anything?”

“Undyne says she is,” Sans said, shrugging.

Not that it mattered. The old Royal Scientist had spent decades trying to find a way to destroy the barrier. Sans had infinitely more faith in Alphys’s abilities, but Alphys was also…distracted. He wasn’t sure why he thought so, but there was something that was holding her back. Certainly not Undyne, who had been encouraging and helpful. It was something else.

He could feel the edges of the memory but withdrew before he could even try to grasp it. Didn’t matter either. None of it actually mattered. Even with her full focus, Alphys would never find a way out of the Underground. No one ever would. Not in this timeline.

“Anyway, like you said,” Redbird went on, trying to sound authoritative. “It could be worse.”

_ It could be worse. _

The night wore on. Redbird and Fisher eventually went home, and the rest of Grillby’s slowly began to empty. Sans stayed where he was, finishing off his drink and trying to goad Grillby into giving him another one. It was going to be a bad night either way, and it would be better to face it drunk than sober. Never mind that at this point he was in danger of falling off his stool.

Papyrus was going to give him hell when he finally went home. Of course, he could always just not go home. It wouldn’t matter either way.

“Come on, Grillb,” he said for maybe the fifth time, raising his empty glass. “Just one more. Do me a solid, man.”

Grillby didn’t answer or even acknowledge him. He simply took the empty glass and moved down to close out Punchy’s tab. Sans watched him, telling himself that he should really just give up and stop. He was being that annoying drunk at this point. A problem customer. Grillby would kick him out at this rate. Plus he respected Grillby. Not that respect had ever stopped him from annoying and disappointing people.

He settled for folding his arms on the counter and laying his head down. It helped with the wobbliness and it made it impossible to open his mouth and ask for another drink. It was fine. He had a stash at home. It was better than lying in bed, soul pounding in his chest while he asked himself questions he could never answer, wondering  _ why.  _ The hangover tomorrow would be a nightmare, but that was Future Sans’s problem.

Tomorrow. What a concept.

Punchy left. The dogs slunk out with no fuss. They’d been a lot more subdued the past few months, since the Guard had disbanded and they’d finally accepted that Alphys was never going to answer any of their calls. Sans kept his head on his arms, wishing he could just fall asleep. He used to be so good at sleeping--why was it always out of his reach these days? Even when he did manage it, there was nothing but nightmares waiting for him. They didn’t even have the decency to be Gaster dreams.

“Sans.”

Sans shifted enough so that he could peer upward. Grillby was standing before him, staring with his usual blank expression. Sans grinned up at him.

“Hey, Grillb,” Sans said cheerfully. “Change your mind about that sixth?”

“We’re closing,” Grillby said.

Sans sat up a bit and looked around. He was the last one in the restaurant. Even Dizzy had gone home. Or maybe this was the one where everyone was dead, and Sans and Grillby were just the last two monsters around. For a moment, Sans couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter, though.

“Pfft. What a cliche.” Sans leaned back a bit on his stool, the world spinning. “One last sad drunk to kick out.”

Grillby folded his arms, giving Sans what was probably a pointed look. Sans thought about the walk home, and the lecture from Papyrus--if he was alive, that was--and the climb up the stairs, and the disaster area that was his room. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made his bed. He’d taken to just sleeping on the bare mattress with the sheets in a sad pile at the end.

“Can I stay a bit longer?” Sans said, speaking toward the counter. “Just till you lock up.”

Grillby huffed a little and seemed to think about it for a moment.

“Fine,” he said, and wandered off to start clearing dishes and cleaning. Sans sighed, trying not to sound too relieved, and dropped his head back onto his arms.

This really was pathetic of him. He’d almost call it a new low if he wasn’t painfully aware of the fact that he’d gone much, much lower than this, and probably would again. Sans never really believed he had any right to even feel bad, but this time felt more unearned than normal. What was there to complain about? Things were fine. Things had gone well. Everyone was alive, maybe. Asgore was dead and the souls were gone and they were never getting out of here, but that wasn’t anything new. It was fine.

There was no reason to feel like this.

Sans wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Grillby drifted back into his line of sight. Grillby paused and peered down at him. Sans’s eyelights refocused as he looked back up at Grillby, meeting his gaze. He was probably about to kick him out. Before Sans could even start to beg for a bit more time, Grillby spoke.

“You’re not smiling.”

Sans immediately forced some approximation of a grin back onto his face.

“Sure I am. I’m always smilin’.”

“You weren’t.” Grillby set down the tray of glasses he was carrying and leaned against the counter. “You seem upset.”

Sans gave a lopsided shrug. “I was just starin’ into space is all.”

“It’s the third time tonight I’ve seen you not smiling.”

He was losing his touch if that was the case. He’d have to do better. Get a lock on this before anyone else noticed. Grillby was more observant than most, but it wasn’t common for him to actually bring it up.

Grillby leaned a bit closer.

“I won’t tell you to talk,” he said quietly. “But if you want to talk, I will listen.”

Talk. Just spill his guts. He was sure he’d done it before. Maybe not to Grillby, but to someone, maybe several different someones. Maybe even Papyrus in one timeline or another. Things built up over years and over timelines until he reached some kind of breaking point. It must have happened at least once. No one could go on like this forever--not that that had ever stopped him from trying. It was always one of the few things he actually tried at.

But…this was a good timeline. Not great, but good. It could be worse. There was no reason to be upset. There was no reason to break  _ now,  _ even a little bit, even if some secret part of him wanted to. It had to just be the alcohol. Sleep deprivation. Worry. Some combination of those.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just, I dunno. Tired.”

“Why are you tired?”

“Heh, you know me,” Sans said, giving Grillby a somewhat off-center fingergun. “I’m always tired.”

“Hm.”

Sans smiled faintly. “I’m fine, Grillb. I’m already livin’ the cliche of bein’ the last guy here after close. Can’t go whole hog and also start dumpin’ all over the bartender, can I?”

Grillby considered him for a long moment in silence. Sans thought maybe that would be the end of it. Grillby was prone to not saying a word for long stretches of time, sometimes even in the middle of a conversation.

“I’m not just your bartender,” Grillby said after about a minute. “I’m also your friend.”

That wasn’t fair. Which was also stupid to think, because Grillby wasn’t manipulative. He didn’t play mind games. He must just truly be worried. Which meant that Sans had been really dropping the ball tonight, and probably not just tonight. He  _ had _ to get a hold of himself. He could start by getting up right now, closing out his tab, and going home.

Maybe the Reset would happen overnight and he’d be spared having to face a worried Grillby for awhile.

“I’m fine,” he said, not really looking at Grillby anymore.

“That’s the third time you’ve said that.”

Sans managed not to wince. “Yeah, well, I’m drunk. Not feelin’ real verbose. Still no dice on gettin’ one for the road, huh?”

“No.”

“Fair.” Sans gave Grillby a winning smile. “Look, don’t worry about me. S’not worth it. You got way more important things t’worry about. And besides. Could be  _ worse.” _

Sans started laughing without really meaning to. Grillby’s flames danced a little, but other than that he didn’t react.

“It could be  _ way _ worse, yanno? People could be dead.  _ Everyone  _ could be dead, but, yanno, they’re not. One dead king’s not a terrible trade-off. So why worry?”

Grillby folded his arms on the counter and leaned toward Sans.

“Do you want me to call Papyrus?”

Sans snorted and pushed his stool back, wobbling a little.

“He’s gonna be mad enough as it is,” he said, sliding carefully off the stool. The floor seemed to ripple beneath his feet, but he managed to stand upright. “‘Sides, he usually stays late at the castle. Might not even be home yet. But, heh, alright, I get the hint. Lemme close out my tab.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Grillby said, the faintest note of disappointment in his voice. Not very surprising. Someone, somewhere, was always disappointed in Sans.

Grillby moved down to the register and Sans stumbled his way after him.

“You know, Sans,” Grillby said as Sans counted out bills. “You’re not alone.”

Sans looked up at him sharply. “Huh?”

“A lot of people are uncertain about the…state of the Underground, and about the future,” Grillby said, and Sans relaxed a little. “No one is really sure what will happen next.”

Sans held out a wad of bills without looking at Grillby.

“Heh,” he said, trying to crush down the bitterness welling in his soul. “What will happen next.”

“I just mean that it’s alright to feel--”

“The only thing I’m uncertain about is why the hell they left it like  _ this,” _ Sans said, feeling his eyelights wink out. He spread his hands. “I mean, it’s gotta be so--unsatisfyin’. Three months of this, just a dead-end timeline. What’ve they even been doing? Just wanderin’ around the Surface with a fistful of souls? I just--hah, here I thought I’d stopped wondering  _ why  _ ages ago. But why would they  _ want  _ to leave it like this? It’s boring. A shit ending.”

Grillby seemed to be frowning at him.

“Some…people think the human will return one day.”

“No, that’s not--that’s not how it works.”

This was bad. Sans rubbed at his forehead, gritting his teeth, trying to get a hold of himself. Sans looked away, glaring at the counter instead.

“Maybe they got bored. Or maybe they always do it like this, for every timelines. Maybe they wait a few months or years. Just leave us stewing for awhile, thinkin’ ‘bout how it could be worse. Could last years for all I know. Maybe they even let us get to the Surface sometimes, let us get comfortable, and then--I mean, who says it just stops if we get outta here? Got no way of knowing, yanno? Haha. ‘M just…so tired of it.”

Grillby said nothing.

“Tired of lyin’ awake and  _ waiting.  _ They always Reset. There’s  _ always  _ a Reset.”

Stop. He had to stop.

“So why won’t they just--fucking  _ do it?” _

_ Stop. _

Sans stared at his hands. He couldn’t seem to focus on them. He took a deep, slow breath, trying to count down from ten in his head. He wasn’t looking, but he could feel Grillby staring at him.

He closed his eyesockets and lowered his hands, stuffing them into his hoodie pockets.

“…Sorry. Don’ listen to me. Uh, just this bit I’m workshopping. Needs a lotta work, huh? Heh. Sorry, I’m goin’.”

Sans turned away, swaying for a moment as the world spun past him. Then he headed for the door.

He heard Grillby move behind him.

“Sans, wait.”

“Seeya tomorrow, Grillb.”

As soon as the door was closed behind him, Sans teleported straight to his bedroom. He was pretty sure Grillby wasn’t going to follow him, but that was a chance he didn’t want to take. The teleport left his head spinning so he immediately dropped onto the bed and buried his face in his hands.

“You idiot,” he growled into his hands. “You goddamn idiot.”

Sans bent over and pawed around beneath the bed until he felt something solid and glassy. He sat back up with a bottle of whiskey, muttering to himself as he fumbled with the cap.

“Talkin’ crazy ‘bout…Resets, timelines…haven’t you fucked things up enough already? Can’t you act like a normal fucking monster?” He finally got the cap off and took a long swig. There. That should be enough to get him through the night. Alcohol was a reliable way to pass out, so long as he was careful.

Grillby might say something to Papyrus. That would be a problem. Sans would have to go back tomorrow and act like nothing at all had happened. Pretend to have just blacked out. People said all kind of things when they were blackout drunk that didn’t mean anything. Grillby would just think it was good old Sans being ironic again. And maybe he’d save the heavier drinking for when he was at home from now on. He’d be more careful, more attentive to how he was acting. He’d always been good at hiding things

Sans stuffed the bottle back under his bed and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He wondered distantly whether he’d have a hangover if a Reset happened tonight. It would almost be worth it--which was disturbing to think about. There’d been a time when he’d feared Resets almost as much as he’d feared Papyrus’s death. But he’d somehow gotten used to both things.

It was the waiting that really got to him.

Sans kicked off his shoes and flopped back onto his bed, draping an arm over his forehead.

“It’s gonna Reset,” he said, and he wasn’t sure if it was an affirmation or a warning. “There’s always a Reset. S’not gonna stay like this.”

What if it  _ did, _ though? Not forever, because there was always a Reset eventually, but what if it did stay like this for months longer? Years? Where would monsterkind end up after a few years of living like this, with even less hope than they’d had before? Where would Papyrus end up when he realized his dream of joining the Royal Guard was going to be nothing but watering flowers and helping out around the castle? Where would Sans end up, drinking himself further and further into a stupor while waiting for the end?

He chuckled faintly. It didn’t matter either way. It wasn’t like any of them had a choice.

Sans stared up at the ceiling, watching the room spin. He was finally starting to drift off when he heard a faint tapping sound. He blinked, eyelights shifting over to the wall that separated his room from Papyrus’s. But no. Papyrus wasn’t home yet. He’d been spending more and more time at the castle lately, taking his gardening job very seriously.

The tapping came again. It was coming from the window. Sans frowned, turning slightly. He didn’t know a single person who would bother tapping on his window, nor anyone who could reach that high. There was a sudden, inexplicable surge of dread in his soul. Something was moving out beyond the glass, hard to make out in the dead of underground night. It was long and narrow, almost like a tree branch.

The thing tapped on the window again, and then a yellow face pressed right up against the glass, trying to peer in.

Sans wasn’t really one for fighting, or for pointlessly using his magic. At least not in this timeline. So there was no reason why all his instincts were screaming at him to immediately use his best attack. Magic was starting to condense in his hand before he even realized what he was doing. He flexed his fingers, debating for a moment, then closed his hand around a single bone construct.

Something told him that if the thing outside wanted a fight, it would already be happening. But he was nothing if not cautious, even while drunk.

Sans got to his feet, stumbling a little. He waited until he was sure he had his balance, then crossed the room. This felt stupid. He shouldn’t open the window, he knew that. But he also knew that if he ignored it, the thing would probably just come in anyway.

Up close, he could finally see what it was. A yellow flower, somehow tall enough to reach his second story window, with a face in the flower’s center. It blinked when it noticed him and smiled brightly, waving a long, thin vine.

He was still irritated from what had happened at Grillby’s, but seeing the flower summoned something almost like anger. Or as close to it as he could really come anymore. He gritted his teeth and reached out to open the window with his free hand, just a bit.

The flower peered at him through the gap but made no move to entire. It was smiling placidly.

“Howdy, Sans! I see that bone in your hand. Are you gonna attack me?”

The sound of its--his--voice brought more anger bubbling up in his soul. A talking flower. That should have been more surprising than it was. But this was exactly what Papyrus had been talking about, hadn’t he? Something about a flower that talked to him, told him things.

More than that, though. Sans could feel the fuzzy edges of other memories, much too far out of reach to grasp. He had never seen this flower before. But he didn’t even need the vague flutter of deja vu to tell him this thing was dangerous.

“I got this funny feelin’ like I should,” he said, blinking a bit more to try and keep his vision clear. He just  _ had  _ to take that extra swig of whiskey, like an idiot.

“Well, don’t,” the flower said, smile fading into something completely emotionless. “I just want to talk.”

“You’re already pretty talkative for a flower.”

A flower. A regular, golden flower, like what grew in the palace. Not a flower monster. That…that seemed important.

“And  _ you  _ smell even worse than usual,” the flower said, sticking out its tongue. “Did you drink  _ all _ of Grillby’s?”

“Only most of it,” Sans said with a wry grin, turning the bone over in his hand. “You got a reason for creeping at my window in the middle of the night? Cause I got important beauty sleep t’catch up on.”

The flower stared at him. “You don’t know who I am, do you.”

“I can guess.” Sans’s grin sharpened. “I’m not sure I like you talking to my brother, you know.”

The flower sighed and rolled its eyes. More like it was disappointed than annoyed. 

“It figures that as soon as they took control of the world…ugh, whatever. It doesn’t matter. I just wanted to ask you something. I never did figure out why you could remember more than some of the others, but I don’t care about the why anymore. I know when I’m beaten.”

It was alarming, just how much this flower seemed to know. If Sans were sober, or if he had the energy to care more, it might even scare him. But it just felt rote. Like this was a dance he already knew all the steps to. Funny, seeing as he had never danced in his life.

“You got a point?” he asked, toying with one end of the bone in his hands.

The flower looked up at him, face blank. It was strangely quiet for a few long moments.

“Sans?” Its tone suddenly, viscerally, reminded Sans of a child. “Why are we all still here?”

He stared back at the flower. He could just not answer. He could pretend to have no idea what it was talking about. Give it nothing, because he knew in his soul that this flower  _ deserved _ nothing from him. An older version of him would have been desperately taking mental notes, trying to memorize all the tiny instances of deja vu, all the emotions he should be feeling but wasn’t. He thought about the notebooks he still kept down in the lab, that he hadn’t touched in months and months, since long before the human.

He sighed.

“I don’t know, bud.”

Its face twitched at the pun, and the look of vague disappointment was back on its face.

“Figures.” It clicked its tongue. “It’s been three months. I just don’t get it. I thought they’d be back by now. Right before they left, I even--I even gave them a hint about how to make things better. Get a better  _ ending.” _

Sans looked away, despite the instinctive need to keep his eyelights on a potential enemy. Ending. Why did he think of it that way? Even with Grillby before, he’d been thinking of it all in terms of an  _ ending.  _ And why did the flower describe it that way?

What did this flower know that Sans had forgotten?

“I thought for sure they’d do it over, but they  _ haven’t.”  _ The flower bared its teeth for a moment. “It pisses me off. Or…I wish it pissed me off.”

Despite himself, Sans let the bone attack disappear. The flower noticed and gave Sans a strange look before its features smoothed back into empty neutrality.

“Have they…” Sans paused and rubbed at an eyesocket, steadying himself against the windowsill. It felt stupid to ask, to expect any sort of normal conversation or honest answer from this flower. He must just be more drunk than he’d thought.

Or more desperate.

“Have they ever done it like this before?” he asked. “Just left it like this?”

The flower made a motion with its vines almost like it was shrugging.

“I don’t know.” The flower stared at him for a long moment. “I guess we’re in the same boat this time. I don’t remember anything when they Reset. I just know they’re doing it.”

It looked away, frowning a little. “I think I get why you hated this boat so much.”

“Heh.”

Now it made sense. There was a device in the basement, a sort of timeline scanner, that had picked up a comprehensive report of several different timelines. It had detected two anomalies. The second one was much bigger than the first one, and had a much more extensive impact on the timelines.

He’d barely given the first anomaly a passing thought, and yet here it was. Uninvited in all senses of the word.

“Anyway, I don’t know why I thought you’d be any help,” the flower said without much malice.

“You could try Alphys instead. She knows a lot.”

The flower hissed a little. “I  _ refuse.” _

That made sense too, distantly. He couldn’t remember why.

“Whatever,” the flower said after a beat, pulling back from the window. “Guess I’ll leave you to your  _ beauty  _ sleep. It’s kind of weird, actually. Just talking to you like normal and not trying to kill each other. Kinda like old times.”

“Yeah?” Sans cocked his head, giving the flower an appraising look. “Is it terrible?”

The flower snorted and stuck its tongue out again.

“Just don’t get used to it. I’m feeling generous these days, that’s all! Trust me when I say it could be a lot worse.” It winked at him. “Bye, trashbag!”

It sank out of sight. Sans looked out the window toward the ground, but the flower was already gone.

Sans closed the window. He caught his own reflection in the glass and looked away.

There was no point in speculating or wondering what any of that had meant, or why he felt strangely nostalgic. It didn’t matter anymore, if it ever had. He had a feeling he wouldn’t see the flower again, at least not in this timeline. The fact that there was someone else in the world who understood, even a little, what all of this was like should have been more heartening than it was. Sans felt almost like he had gotten something that he had wanted, but never really thought to ask for.

He rubbed at his face, more tired than he had been before. The bed seemed too far away. Sans sank to the floor beneath the window and draped his hands over his knees. He tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

At least now he felt that maybe he could sleep.

  
  
***  
  
  


 

The Void was the same as it always was these days. Empty and black, a sort of glassy surface beneath his feet. No lights in the distance or flowers this time. No Gaster. Nothing. Sans looked around, trying to see any sort of change or variation in the blackness, any indication of someone’s presence. But there was nothing.

Sans sighed, the sound even more muffled than usual, like the dream was wrapped in fabric. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, ignoring the faint pounding in his skull. Another dead-end timeline gone. And here he was stuck alone in the Void while he waited to wake up back at the start of things. He was starting to wonder if the solitude was worse than Gaster antagonizing him all the time. Why did Gaster keep bringing him here if he didn’t even want to talk?

He was about to sit down and try to wait it out when he heard a voice directly behind him.

_ “Greetings, Sans.” _

It had always at least been simple with Gaster. He could always  _ feel  _ when Gaster was nearby, even when he was hiding behind several layers of illusion and metaphor. Probably something to do with their magic being connected. Even back when Gaster had actively been trying to break open his mind, he had never actually been able to get the drop on Sans or startle him.

There was no warning this time, no sense of any kind of presence, and no time to stop the little yelp that escaped him. He whirled on the spot, scrambling back to put some distance between himself and whatever was speaking. He’d let someone--something--get  _ behind _ him. He’d let something get within grabbing distance, and they’d done it  _ easily,  _ instantly, and in the back of his head he realized that this was probably how people felt when he teleported into their personal space.

He froze once he had moved back a few paces, eyesockets wide, staring at the figure before him. It looked--wrong. Wrong and familiar. It was about his size, and its body seemed to be made up of green and yellow stripes that shifted and moved, yellow sprouting from them into almost flower-like shapes. But most of the figure was obscured by something like static. No, not static. It was like looking at a photo that had been scratched out with black marker, scribbles jumping and flickering to black out as much of it as possible. The only thing that was plainly visible was its mouth, currently stretched into a wide smile.

It laughed softly at his reaction, entirely mocking.

_ “Oh, forgive me. Did I  _ startle  _ you?” _

Sans narrowed his eyesockets, watching it flicker, trying to calm down and think. Green and yellow. There was a reason that was familiar.

_ “It figures that you don’t startle well,”  _ the thing said, smiling cruelly.  _ “People never can take what they dish out.” _

The memories were slow to roll back in, oozing into Sans’s mind half-formed. He’d been here before, in some past Reset, and there had been something in the Void with him. The only color he had ever seen in here, or at least the only color that wasn’t an illusion. Green and yellow.

“You…were here before.” He glanced quickly up at the flower-like shapes that kept sprouting from them, only to die as soon as they were scratched out. “In the golden flowers.”

The thing’s smile smoothed out into something more neutral and more unreadable.  _ “Ah. So you remember.” _

“Is that what you are? That…talking flower?”

_ “Him? Of course not.” _

Sans felt as though he had been talking to the flower not long ago. It stood to reason that the thing would try to haunt his dreams, if it could. But no. This was different. There was only one thing this creature could be.

“Then you’re one of the others. The ones who fell.”

It tilted its head.  _ “Goodness. That could describe many people. You will have to be more specific.” _

Sans frowned a little.

“I didn’t get a good enough look when it happened. I don’t…know who they were.”

Its smile broadened.  _ “Typical Sans." _

“If I knew you before, I’m…sorry. I don’t remember.”

_ “How interesting! I have no idea what you are talking about, Sans. I think you have mistaken me for someone else.” _

The way it spoke was similar to how the gray monster on the pier had spoken, years and years ago. Except…that monster had implied that it wasn’t technically in the Void, whatever the hell the Void even was. It was slotted somewhere in between, and it had seemed to have minimal control over its appearance or location. This creature, whatever it was, had altered its appearance between now and last time. He could just barely remember it. He had found it almost by accident, following that golden light. It had looked more solid last time, like looking at someone in the real world. No scratch marks.

It had come to  _ him  _ this time, and it had scratched itself out, as if…as if it was trying to hide from him. He couldn’t remember what exactly it had looked like before. Just green and yellow.

“You’re not,” he said, frown deepening. “Who are you?”

It smiled brightly at him.

_ “Name the Fallen Human.” _

It spoke almost like it was quoting something. Like there was a joke that Sans had missed.

“You’re human?”

_ “I am the demon that comes when you call its name,” _ it answered in the same tone as before. 

“A demon.” He smirked faintly, despite the sweat rolling down the back of his skull. “Don’t really believe in that sort of thing.”

_ “What you believe is of no consequence to me.” _

He snorted. “Alright, edgelord. So what are you doing here? Never seen you around before. New in town?”

_ “Interesting. So that was not the first time you have invaded this place. Ah, I am learning so much about you, Sans.” _

Invaded. That was an odd choice of word. Another bit of the memory crawled back to him--a slash of red, a voice screaming that he had  _ no right. _

He shrugged. “Don’t have much choice. Just kinda end up here sometimes.”

It grinned sharply at him.  _ “How convenient.” _

“Sounds like you got a problem with me, stranger,” he said conversationally. “Kinda odd, since I’m pretty sure we’ve only met that one time. And I still don’t even know your name. So what’d I do to piss you off?”

It tilted its head again, smile fading into something placid and completely mirthless. It took a step closer. Sans resisted the urge to step back.

_ “Sans,” _ it said in a singsong,  _ “I did not come find you to answer your questions, or even to engage in conversation. It is simply good manners to greet someone when they enter into your home.” _

Were they implying that they actually  _ lived  _ here? That was impossible. This was the Void. This was in-between, not even technically real. A way-station on your journey elsewhere. Even Gaster and his followers didn’t  _ live _ here. They didn’t live at all.

Sans made a show of looking around and nodding in approval.

“Nice digs. Love the decor.”

_ “Yes, I find the lighting in particular to be quite lovely, don’t you agree?” _

Before Sans could even start to answer, the creature raised a hand. There was a sound like paper tearing and the entire Void changed. Pillars sprang up on either side, tiles burst into existence beneath Sans’s feet. He blinked, startled, and took a step backward, but the change spread in all directions before he could think to dodge. Walls sprang up. Windows formed along one wall, bearing intricate patterns in stained glass. The Void shaped itself into a kind of hallway, a door at each end.

Sans looked around, watching as the world settled. The shapes of the pillars, the walls, the windows, the floor--all of it was simply red lines that outlined the shapes of things, no texture or color or depth. It was almost like someone had drawn the room with red crayon on black construction paper.

Or…no. That was inaccurate. The lines looked almost like…pixels. He was reminded of looking at three-dimensional models on some of the older computers, back in the science department. Before.

He looked at the demon again. It looked the same, green and yellow and scratch-outs. Only now it was holding a knife. Vibrant red, giving off particles like red dust.

He recognized this. The hallway. The knife. The memory came surging back to him and he staggered, stepping backward, raising his hands slightly.

_ “Do you remember this, Sans?” _

Red began to spill across the tiles in ugly, erratic blotches. He could almost smell it, copper and salt.

_ “You always act like you can remember everything,”  _ the thing said, idly toying with the point of the knife.  _ “You always act like you  _ know  _ everything.” _

Sans took another step back as a puddle of red crept toward his feet. This wasn’t real. It was just an illusion, a dream. Gaster had shown him far, far worse. It seemed like this thing could manipulate the Void the same way Gaster could--but that didn’t make any of it real.

_ “I suppose I cannot really fault you for what you did here, entirely.” _

“I don’t--”

Bones sprang up from out of the walls and pillars, from out of the floor and the puddles, all of them pixelated and red. They mimicked the sound of his own magic perfectly. He tensed, preparing to dodge, but the bones didn’t come anywhere near him. They were just part of the scene.

_ “I understand justice. If we can call it that. I suppose they needed to be stopped.” _

“Who the hell are you?”

The thing raised the knife, grinning. An array of knives appeared in the air behind them, pointed outward, forming a sort of grisly halo.

Two red pinpricks appeared on its face where its eyes would be.

_ “Why is it that you only ask questions now, when it does not matter? When I have told you that I will not answer? I am not an info-dump. I am not your narrator. You deserve nothing from me.” _

“Yeah, listen, spooky,” Sans growled, hands still partially raised. “You’re talking at me an awful lot, but you’re really not making much sense. And if you’re picking a fight, you’re gonna be real disappointed. I know how this place works. Your lightshow’s real edgy and all, but it’s got no  _ substance.  _ Nothing you can do to me will matter.”

_ “Yes. Nothing matters to you, does it?” _

The knives began to rotate, slowly moving outwards. They were structured like a bone attack. Clearly this thing really did want to fight him.

_ “Nothing at all,” _ it went on.  _ “Not the lives of your friends…not even the life of your own brother.” _

A figure made of the same red outlines as the rest appeared in the distance behind the creature, just for a split second. Tall, skeletal, its head missing.

Sans tried to breath past the sudden twist in his soul.

_ “Certainly not the life of a human child.” _

Another figure flickered into existence, crumpled on the floor at Sans’s feet, riddled with bones. He stepped back.

“Okay,” Sans ground out. “Why don’t you just get to the point.”

The thing laughed mildly.

_ “I would apologize for not making myself clear,” _ it said, tone mocking.  _ “But you never really made yourself clear either, did you? You make people guess. And then you judge them for getting it wrong. That’s what you are, right? A judge.” _

“It’s more of an unofficial title…”

_ “Still. Who judges the judge? Since no one else will, I suppose it must fall to me.” _

The knives stopped spinning and turned, pointing at Sans. 

_ “I am a demon. I am incapable of sentiment. But while I have your attention…while you have no choice but to listen…and, I suppose, on the off-chance that you will remember this…clever, mysterious monster that you are…” _

Sans gritted his teeth and braced himself.

_ “You are fond of asking questions. But never the right ones.” _

It raised the knife.

_ “A child climbed a mountain,” _ the thing said, and suddenly there was something other than mockery and judgment in its voice.

Rage.

_ “And you never even asked WHY.” _

The red knives shot forward. Sans dodged, but the knives changed direction, flickering in and out of existence, practically teleporting in order to follow him. One sliced past his arm, leaving a gash in his sleeve. Another planted itself into the floor a millimeter from his foot. He stumbled backward, almost losing his balance.

The demon didn’t wait for him to take his turn. It attacked again, sending another array of knives at him, moving forward with its knife raised. Sans dodged again and again. Knives tore chunks out of the pillars and tiles around him, coming at him in rows and arrays that were almost impossible to avoid.

It wasn’t going to play by the rules. But then again, Sans never did either. As soon as he had an opening, he raised his hand. Crisscrossing lines of bones erupted from the floor beneath the thing’s feet.

It seemed to glitch. For a moment it looked like it was in several places at once, before finally reappearing a few feet away, out of range.

There was a peal of laughter, then knives shot toward him from both sides. Sans ducked and dodged, hissing through his teeth. Knives clashed together, but the sound they made was nothing like metal. It was roaring static and the scream of dying electronics.

Sans put a pillar between himself and the demon and pressed back against the red light.

“Listen, there’s no point to this,” he said, already starting to pant. “Stuff that happens in here doesn’t--”

There was a sound like paper tearing, and the demon appeared right in front of him, already slashing downward with the knife. Sans dodged at the last second, and the knife slashed through the pillar like it was nothing. The pillar flickered, its pieces floating in place for a moment, before the whole thing dissolved into pixels.

Sans backed away, raising a hand and summoning a Blaster above him, aimed at the demon. The demon turned to him slowly, still smiling.

_ “Do you think you are above consequences?” _

The Blaster fired. The demon disappeared with a childish giggle. In the next moment, several dozen knives rained down from above. Sans barely managed to dodge, knives tearing the pixel tiles to pieces around him. One knife slashed past his side, catching on the fabric of his hoodie and knocking him off balance. He went down, rolling to avoid another volley of knives and scrambling back to his feet. He slapped a hand against the ground and two waves of bones snapped together around the demon like teeth.

The demon glitched again, easily avoiding the attack.

_ “I see why you like breaking the rules,”  _ it said, more knives appearing behind it.  _ “It is so much easier to win when you cheat.” _

Sans darted behind another pillar, covering his head, knives ripping apart the world as they shot by.

“You’re judging me for trying to stop them?” he demanded, incredulous. “The world was ending. What was I suppo--?”

The Void tore itself open in front of him, and before Sans could even move, the demon had shoved him down against the pillar, seizing the front of his hoodie. Sans grappled at its nonexistent hand, summoning a line of bones beneath its feet. The bones tore into it, but the demon didn’t even seem to notice. It shoved him harder, knocking his feet out from under him, grabbing his hood to hold him up. Then it raised the knife.

It didn’t matter. Gaster had done worse. But Sans still squeezed his eyesockets shut, bracing himself for the inevitable pain.

The knife came down. Instead of slashing him open, the demon stabbed the knife through his hood into the pillar behind him, pinning him. It let go and Sans slumped halfway against the floor, dangling from the knife.

He opened his eyesockets and stared up at the demon. It stepped back, smiling placidly.

_ “I told you. I can’t judge you for this. They needed to be stopped. Though it certainly took you a long time to bother to move, didn’t it, Sans?” _

Sans reached up to try and grab the knife pinning him to the pillar, but touching it was like trying to grab a live wire. Something like electricity jumped against his bones, making him wince.

Another knife appeared in the demon’s hand. It pressed the point against his sternum and Sans froze, no longer breathing.

_ “But for the rest of it, Sans? The things you did? The things you did not bother to do? That is worth judgment, is it not?” _

“Kinda…funny that a demon cares about that sorta thing,” Sans said, eyelights fixed on the knife in its hand. “Kinda funny that a demon would care about a human at all.”

_ “You know very little about demons, Sans.” _

“So why…” Sans paused, abandoning what he was about to say. He forced himself to look up at the demon’s face. “Why did they climb the mountain?”

The point dug harder into his sternum and he felt it catch in one of the grooves.

_ “Still asking the wrong questions at the wrong times. To the wrong people.” _

“Just…just not really sure what you want here.”

Its smile brightened.  _ “Is it far-fetched to think that a demon might take joy in the suffering of others?” _

He stared up at it, shifting his hand at his side. Out of sight, he summoned a single bone into his hand, sharpened at one end.

“But…no joy in the suffering of a human kid, right?”

The demon’s smile instantly vanished.

“That, uh. That just seems to be a big part of…all this.” He gestured vaguely with his free hand. “Making this hallway. Reminding me. Judging me for something I did to ‘em. I mean, they…musta suffered in this hall. I wouldn’t have--held back, right?”

He would have used all his best attacks, pulled out all the stops. The demon had mentioned cheating. Of course he would have cheated. Of course he would have done every single thing he could to stop them.

Only once it was too late, though.

It pushed the knife harder against him. Sans felt it puncture the fabric of his hoodie and his shirt, crackling with red sparks as it made contact with bone. Sans hissed in pain and tightened his grip on the hidden bone in his hand.

“This is…like a justice thing, isn’t it. A vengeance thing. But uh…like you said. Don’t know much about demons.”

He had never believed in them. They were supposed to just be evil spirits, bent on destruction and mayhem, spreading evil. Just a legend.

“We could just talk this out. You’ve, uh.” Sans glanced down at the knife again. “Kinda made your  _ point.  _ You got me beat. So…"

He turned the bone in his hand around.

_ “Are you offering me Mercy?” _

“Yeah.”

They smiled, almost softly.

_ “Then we are alike,”  _ they said.  _ “Neither of us has a drop of Mercy in us.” _

They shifted their grip, and Sans slashed upward with the bone in his hand, aiming for their center of mass. He felt the bone drive into  _ something. _

The whole world shattered around them, the red outlines breaking away into pixels, dissolving into nothing. Sans toppled backward and the demon dropped their full weight onto him, driving the knife all the way through him into the floor below. He felt his sternum shatter, taking several ribs with it.

The pain was blinding. Sans couldn’t even scream.

_ “DID YOU THINK I WOULD FALL FOR THE SAME TRICK TWICE?” _

Sans made a coughing, retching sound, tasting dust and chips of bone. The demon leaned closer, pushing the knife in to the handle, their form dripping with red and black. Sans made a pained wheezing sound. He tried to grab at them and missed.

_ “I know what your MERCY is like, Sans." _

Sans tried to teleport, summon an attack, anything. Nothing happened.

_ “Whatever you remember or don’t, you never learn from it,”  _ the demon hissed, darkness leaking from its mouth.  _ “You never change. No matter the timeline, you’ll always be the same, hypocritical, cheating, useless BULLY. If you have some kind of special power…special knowledge…isn’t it your RESPONSIBILITY to do the right thing?” _

They twisted the knife and Sans let out a choked cry, eyelights disappearing.

They glitched their way off of him, leaving the knife where it was. They stood back, smile folding into its usual mocking calm.

_ “Take a moment to think about this.” _

It didn’t matter. Even with how much it hurt, it didn’t matter. None of this was real. He could already feel himself fading. He was just going to wake up back in Snowdin in a few minutes, and…

And do it all over again. Over and over and over. Come back here for the next Reset, and maybe the demon would be here again, to teach him another lesson he wouldn’t learn. This was just going to be one more thing he had to deal with.

“Doesn’t…” he rasped, spitting out dust. “If I won’t remember this, it d…doesn’t matter. Doesn’t benefit the h-human at all. Just…you. Heh, not…not the first time someone’s messed with me h-here for…for not reason.”

_ “I have no desire to unlock your tragic backstory, Sans. And it does not matter to me whether you remember this or not. As I said. You will not change.” _

“What a…about you?”

They didn’t answer. Sans reached up and wrapped his hand around the knife handle. Red sparks jumped against his phalanges. Sans groaned, trying to ignore the pain, tugging at the handle to see if he could pull the knife out. It just made everything hurt worse.

“Just seems-- _ ghh-- _ like you’re as-- _ stuck  _ as I am, heh. Heh.”

The knife moved just slightly, sending white-hot pain through his whole form. Sans’s body seized up and he let go of the knife, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out again.

_ “Irrelevant,” _ the demon said, watching him impassively.  _ “You simply want to get the last word in, like usual.” _

“Just sayin’.” Sans stared up into the Void, eyesockets half-closed, his vision starting to fade. “If we’re all in the same boat…”

He trailed off. For some reason, he remembered something Gaster had said, however long ago.

_ Circles can be broken. _

_ It will get worse. Before it can get better. _

Sans closed his eyesockets.

“Can… _ can it _ get better…?”

They didn’t answer right away. Everything was fading, but he heard it as they took a step closer to him. He felt the knife in his chest simply disappear, taking most of the pain with it.

_ “Not unless something changes, right?” _ There was a faint note of uncertainty in their voice.  _ “And it won’t. So that should answer your question.” _

How strange. Maybe neither of them knew as much as they thought they did.

He tried to tell them so, but he was already gone.

  
  
***  
  


 

“SANS, WAKE UP ALREADY! THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAS MADE BREAKFAST AND IT IS GETTING COLD! HURRY UP, BROTHER! I HAVE A VERY GOOD FEELING ABOUT TODAY!”

Sans groaned and dragged himself upright. His head was pounding faintly, almost like he had a hangover. And for some reason, his chest was aching. That seemed new. He pressed a hand to his sternum, wincing a little. The bone felt oddly tender.

Probably nothing.


	5. Ignorance is Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Papyrus finally have a proper house in Outside. Turmoil arrives at the edge of town. Outside sees its first snowfall. Frisk drops by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains **disassociation, unreality** and memory loss.

Papyrus had inexplicably chosen his one day off to move the last of their things to the Surface and into their newly-completed house. The house still smelled of fresh-cut wood and the paint was barely dry, but Papyrus had insisted.

“THE SOONER IT’S ALL DONE, THE BETTER!” he had said. “IT IS HIGH TIME WE HAD A PROPER HOME ON THE SURFACE!”

They had been gradually bringing things up from Snowdin over the past several weeks, storing a lot of it in one of the many repurposed sheds as they waited for the construction to finish. Outside on the whole was looking more like a proper town every day, now with multiple houses of various design and form. They also now had two paved roads, cell service, and WiFi.

All that was left in Snowdin was a few boxes and all the kitchen utensils. Papyrus, Undyne and some of the Snowdin dogs did most of the actual moving. Sans had a very bad feeling about what going back into the Underground would do to him, so he stayed in the new house and unpacked things as the others brought them up.

“DON’T JUST LEAVE THINGS IN PILES, SANS!” Papyrus said as he and Greater Dog moved the couch into exactly the right spot.

Sans was checking things off the enormous list Papyrus had given him. “Hey, at least they’re not in boxes now.”

“UGH! CAN’T YOU AT LEAST ORGANIZE THEM?”

“Sure they’re organized. See, living room stuff here…” Sans pointed to a pile of random items haphazardly shoved against the far wall. “Kitchen stuff in the kitchen…” Sans pointed to a similar pile on the kitchen floor.

“OH MY GOD! FORGET I SAID ANYTHING!”

The whole thing was a day-long production. Sans asked multiple times if they could just leave at least some stuff in boxes, so they didn’t have to work  _ all _ day long. Papyrus just reiterated that he wanted things to be done already, and Sans didn’t have the energy to argue.

He used one of the lulls while Papyrus and the others were back in the mountain to sit out on the front steps and watch the world go by. It was good for him to get outdoors every now and then. The house wasn’t an exact replica of their one in Snowdin, but it was close, to the point that Sans found himself getting confused. Seeing the trees out the front door and the occasional bird always helped. There were a lot fewer birds these days, however. Sans’s bird book had explained that many birds travelled south for the winter, because apparently the south was warmer. It made sense, though it made Outside seem a little more barren. The leaves were gone from the trees now, and the ground had started to gather frost in the mornings. A lot of the animals had disappeared as well. Frisk had mentioned something about “hibernation.”

At least Sans’s crow friend had stuck around. It was currently perched on the roof, occasionally cawing at him. Some other crows had taken up residence in the nearby trees. Papyrus claimed that Sans was feeding them too much, but Sans pointed out that winter meant not much food for birds. He was doing them a favor, both keeping them fed and introducing them to the glory of Grillby’s fries. Everyone deserved to experience Grillby’s fries, even crows.

Eventually, Sans saw Papyrus and the others coming up the street, Undyne jogging ahead of them with a box under each arm. Sans dragged himself to his feet, and was about to make a joke when he noticed Undyne’s expression. She looked oddly grim.

“Shift it, Sans!”

Sans stepped aside to let her past. She jogged up into the living room, puffing.

“Sorry to just drop these and run but I gotta go!” She said, setting the boxes down in the middle of the living room.

“Why, what’s up?”

She grimaced at Sans and reached up to pull her hair into a tighter ponytail.

“The protestors are back.”

“What protestors?”

“Uh, the same ones who have been bothering us for a week, obviously?”

Sans’s expression must have been too blank, because she continued, giving him an incredulous look.

“The ones who hate us? The ones from two days ago?? Jeez, Sans, pay attention!”

“Right, yeah,” he said, grinning. “Those guys. Sorry, thought you said ‘pro-toasters.’”

“Why the HELL would I say--UGH! Outta the way, you weirdo.” Undyne headed out the door, passing Papyrus and the dogs on the way. “Greater and Doggo, you two meet me there when you can!”

“Yep, soon as we set these down,” Doggo said, sidling his way into the house with a nightstand. Greater Dog and Papyrus followed with the last of the boxes.

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL BE THERE SOON AS WELL!”

“Wait, what?” Sans said, watching Papyrus half-jog to the kitchen to set his things down. “Bro, it’s your day off.”

“YES, BUT AS MASCOT--”

“Papyrus, where do you want this?” Doggo said, hefting the nightstand.

“OH, YOU CAN LEAVE IT ON THE LANDING UPSTAIRS! DO YOU REQUIRE MY ASSISTANCE, FRIEND DOGGO?”

“Haha, nah, buddy, I’m good.”

“Bro, let’s just stay in and unpack,” Sans said, following Papyrus as he moved things around the kitchen. “I was gonna plug in the TV and--”

“Sans, move this one into the study, will you?” Papyrus said, pushing a small box into Sans’s arms. “It is SO NICE to have a study, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, uh--okay.” Sans hovered for a moment, uncertain, before backing out of the kitchen and picking his way through the living room. They had extra rooms in the new house, including a study and a ground-floor bathroom. Mostly for any visiting humans.

Sans set the box down on the floor immediately inside the study, then went back to Papyrus. Greater Dog was already rushing out the door; Doggo was halfway up the stairs with the nightstand, carefully bracing it against the wall.

“Anyway, it seems like the others are gonna have this whole protestor thing handled, right?” Sans said.

“PROBABLY! BUT! AS MASCOT, IT IS MY JOB TO HELP KEEP THE PEACE BETWEEN MONSTERS AND HUMANS! It is important that these Humans First people see a FRIENDLY and FLUFFY and VERY COOL MASCOT LIKE THE GREAT PAPYRUS!”

“Humans what now?”

“Humans First? It is what they are calling themselves.”

Sans rubbed at his forehead. He could remember this. Yeah, for a couple days now…some random humans who would gather on the edge of Outside with posters. They were mostly a nuisance, yelling things and insulting any monsters who came too close. Some of them had thrown rocks, but as far as Sans could remember, no one had actually been hurt yet.

Sans shook his head dismissively.

“Alright, but it’s still your day off,” Sans said, trying for a winning smile. “C’mon, bro, you’ve been working so hard lately. Plus you just moved everything like a bazillion miles from the Underground. You need a break. I was thinking we could set up the TV and watch some of those taped Mettaton shows, if we can find ‘em.”

Papyrus looked conflicted for a moment.

“I suppose I am a little, tiny, teensy bit tired, but I still--”

“Okay, got it!” Doggo called from upstairs. “I’m heading to the border!”

Doggo bounded down the stairs and out the door.

“I WILL MEET YOU THERE!” Papyrus said, crossing the living room and closing the door. He heaved a sigh and beamed, looking over the living room.

“Finally, Sans! Everything we own, on the Surface! FINALLY, this place is starting to REALLY feel like home!”

Sans stood in the middle of the living room, staring at Papyrus.

“Yeah. So…shouldn’t we enjoy it? Nothing says home like a bro night in. We can break out some of the kitchen stuff, make spaghetti or something. Real  _ homey.” _

“NYYYYEEHHHH, EVEN DESPITE YOUR PUNS, IT IS TEMPTING!”

Sans grinned. He was winning. “Join the lazy side, bro. At least for one night.”

“I tell you what!” Papyrus said, eyelights brightening. “I will go help out at the border! And in the meantime, you can set things up here! And then! I WILL RETURN THIS EVENING, AND WE CAN HAVE A FEW HOURS OF! EPIC! BROTHERLY! BONDING!”

Sans made himself chuckle a little. It wasn’t ideal, but he supposed a compromise was the best he could hope for. He had barely seen Papyrus for longer than a few minutes at a time since he had started doing ambassador work. A few hours together would be a godsend.

“Alright, bro, that sounds good,” he said and gave Papyrus a thumbs-up. “Hey, maybe I’ll even surprise you by cleaning up a bunch.”

Papyrus actually gasped, eyelights going big and bright. He clapped his hands together in front of him.

“SANS! EVEN THAT SUGGESTION! MAKES ME SO HAPPY! I MAY START CRYING!”

“Okay, har har,” Sans said, stooping to pick up a box. “Go on and have fun with your nasty protestors.”

“I AM CERTAIN THAT I WILL!” Papyrus said, heading for the door.

“And stay safe, bro, okay?”

“OF COURSE! OH, THAT REMINDS ME!” Papyrus paused and looked back at Sans. “They said it might snow tonight, so could you make sure all the windows are closed? And that we have enough firewood? I know Fuku was giving out firewood, so you can ask her if we end up needing more!”

“Sure bro,” Sans said, winking. “First snow on the Surface. Should be really  _ cool.” _

“STOP!”

“I bet some of the Hotlanders will be  _ chilled to the--” _

“I AM LEAVING! GOODBYE!”

Sans laughed as Papyrus stormed out the door, almost slamming it behind him.

  
  
  
  


Sans was true to his word, for once. At least he did a good deal more unpacking than even he had been expecting. Papyrus would definitely be surprised. Sans had gotten almost the entire living room cleared and had set up the television and DVD player. He’d broken down empty boxes and folded them up next to the couch to get them out of the way. He had even moved the nightstand out of the upstairs hallway and into Papyrus’s bedroom, setting it up exactly where he knew Papyrus would want it. Lastly, he went by Grillby’s place. Grillby’s house had been completed, and he was working out of his own kitchen while he waited for the restaurant construction to finish. Sans grabbed dinner for himself and a bundle of firewood from Fuku, then headed back home.

It was getting fairly late when Sans plunked down on the couch and turned on the TV, double-checking to make sure everything worked. He queued up one of their Mettaton DVDs and then pulled out his phone. No messages from Papyrus, but surely he was coming soon. Papyrus, unlike Sans, always kept his promises.

Sans got more comfortable on the couch, tapping a thumb against the arm while he waited. He supposed he could maybe get some more unpacking done, but he was pretty worn out already. His joints were aching from all the movement. He could try vacuuming up all the debris and dust from moving, but he honestly couldn’t remember how to even turn the thing on.

Waiting and staring at the blank television screen meant he had no choice but to start thinking. He went over a few recent events in his head, trying to solidify things a bit more. Protestors at the edge of town, and they’d been coming back every few days for a little while now. Grillby’s new restaurant was under construction a few blocks away. Asgore had started clearing an area for a community garden, though of course they couldn’t plant anything until spring. Toriel was working on setting up the first school in Outside. Undyne and some of the former guards and sentries had formed a sort of militia, mostly just for keeping the peace and addressing minor complaints that didn’t need to go all the way to Toriel or Frisk. Humans still came and went on a daily basis, bringing necessities or helping with construction. A couple humans were actually living in the town for a few days a week--they had a special title, “forest rangers” or something. They had explained that they were here to make sure that monsterkind’s impact on the forest was as minimal as possible.

A lot had happened. It was hard to keep track of it all, but Sans had started keeping little notes in his bird book. When he saw a bird, he wrote down the date, and also one or two significant things that had happened that day. He was starting to fill in the margins of the crow page and the chickadee page, so he might need to invest in an actual notebook sometime soon. Now that they had a proper house, he’d have plenty of places to hide it.

What else? He was up to fifteen different birds now. The human, Steven, had even complimented him on being able to spot one of them--something called a house wren, a tiny little brown thing that blended perfectly with the trees. Sans had asked where its “house” was and Steven had laughed. Steven had kind of become Sans’s birding companion when he was around, though Sans had to write his name in the bird book a few times to remember it.

Sans sighed heavily, curling up against the couch arm. Maybe he should just nap for a bit. Papyrus would wake him up when he got back. It was starting to look like maybe they’d only have an hour or two to hang out, unless Papyrus walked in the door right now.

Sans checked his phone again. Nothing.

This felt familiar. Waiting for Papyrus. And not just because Sans spent most of his Surface time waiting for Papyrus in one way or another.

He had been trying hard not to think about that sort of thing. He didn’t know whether there had been a Reset since coming to the Surface or not, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Small Resets--Reloads--came with the all-too familiar stumble-jolt sensation, like missing a step on a flight of stairs. Bigger Resets felt the same way, but with a greater sense of missing time. But there was a third kind of Reset, the biggest kind, the ones that came when the timeline ran out, the ones that left him with only the vaguest deja vu. Those were almost impossible to track. Frisk might have Reset like that since coming up here, and Sans would have no way of knowing, since he hadn’t looked at any of his notebooks or the scanner in months.

It felt like the one and only time that Sans could actually choose ignorance, and it was almost as blissful as people always said it was. He didn’t want to think about the idea that all of this could be torn away from them, that they could reach the Surface only to end up right back where they had all started. It made him feel like his soul was sinking into a bottomless pit. And it didn’t help that he had been having strange dreams about Frisk for the past month or so. He never remembered what the dreams were about, but he always woke up feeling like he desperately needed to talk to them.

At this point, Sans wasn’t sure if Frisk was avoiding him, or if it was the other way around. He barely spoke to them at all these days. Then again, he barely spoke to anyone. Most people were too busy to bother with a monster who had no job and no responsibilities. Frisk in particular was doing all kinds of ambassador things, some of which took them and Toriel away from Outside and into Ebbot City. Even the two or three times he had tried to go find them, even just to grab a bite together or something, Frisk had either been out of town or much too busy.

It was closing in on ten now. Papyrus should have called hours ago. Where was he? Out on a night patrol? Cooking lesson with Undyne? No--protestors at the edge of town, right. He was doing his ambassador thing. Human protestors. Ones who didn’t like monsters.

Sans got to his feet. Something had gone wrong. He was an idiot. He should have offered to go with Papyrus. Not that he was any good at keeping the peace or any kind of de-escalation, but at least he could have kept an eye on things and maybe gotten Papyrus out of there if things got rough. Sans knew full well how dangerous humans could be. Especially angry humans.

Papyrus would have called by now. It was just like before-- _ before.  _ Waiting for Papyrus, finally going out to look for him, he hadn’t gone to fight the human, had he? Finding--

Sans pulled out his phone and tapped Papyrus’s number. He stood in the middle of the living room, sweat beading on his skull as he listened to Papyrus’s phone ring. Once. Twice.

Papyrus picked up on the third ring.

“SANS! SANS, I AM SO, SO SORRY, I MEANT TO CALL SOONER!”

_ Thank god. _

“Bro.” Sans kept his voice level, almost conversational. “What’s up? Where you at?”

“I AM AT THE--” Papyrus’s voice suddenly went distant, like he was covering the phone. “OH YES, SORRY, TORIEL, IT IS JUST MY BROTHER! GIVE ME A MOMENT!”

Sans stayed quiet, waiting. It sounded like Papyrus was moving to a different spot.

“Sorry, Sans, hello! It is I, your amazing brother, The Great Papyrus! Please don’t be worried!”

Sans decided that saying he wasn’t would be much too obvious a lie.

“So what’s goin’ on?”

“Things got a little--HEATED at the protest! Some of the humans were! Very angry! Things got a little--maybe--OUT OF HAND? But only a little! No one was badly hurt!”

Sans dragged his hand down his face with his free hand, pretty sure his soul was going to collapse any moment now.

“Are you okay?”

“YES, I AM ONE HUNDRED PERCENT FINE!”

At least that wasn’t Papyrus’s lying voice. Papyrus could be an excellent liar when he really set his mind to it--he had learned from the best. But most of the time, it was very obvious.

He seemed to be telling the truth. But it was the tone he used when he was trying to cheer himself up, convince himself of something.

“How about you just tell me what actually happened, bro?”

“OH! WELL! SOME OF THE HUMANS STARTED THROWING ROCKS AT US! I THINK THEY WERE TRYING TO DEMONSTRATE ONE OF THEIR HUMAN SPORTSGAMES! IT IS CALLED BASEBALL, I THINK? ANYWAY! THEIR AIM WAS NOT VERY GOOD, BECAUSE ONE OF THEM! HIT DOGGO IN THE HEAD! WITH A ROCK!”

Sans bit back a curse. “Is he okay?”

“YES, HE IS ALRIGHT! I AM AT THE CLINIC WITH HIM RIGHT NOW! Doggo, my brother wants to know if you’re okay!”

There was a grunt, and then Doggo’s muffled voice.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Those bastards didn’t--”

“THERE, YOU SEE! IT’S JUST A BUMP ON THE HEAD--JUST A FEW HP! THAT IS GOOD, YOU SEE, BECAUSE IT MEANS THE HUMANS WERE ONLY ANGRY AND CONFUSED! THEY ONLY HAD SLIGHTLY BAD INTENT! That is good, right, Sans?”

There was a plaintive note in his voice. Sans sighed quietly.

“Yeah, bro, that’s good. At least it could be…” Sans paused, frowning vaguely to himself. “Could, uh, be worse.”

“ANYWAY! It took a little longer than we thought to calm things down! Most of the humans went home when it started snowing.”

Sans glanced out the window. He hadn’t noticed, but there was a faint dusting of white on the windowsill outside. Not nearly as interesting as rain. It wasn’t like Sans had never seen snow before.

“The rest went home! When the human police showed up! IT WAS KIND OF EXCITING! But we had to stick around to make sure all of them were gone and that no one else was hurt!”

This time Sans did drag his hand down his face.  _ Papyrus _ didn’t have to stick around.  _ Papyrus  _ didn’t have to be out there at all, in among a bunch of angry, bigoted humans. He wasn’t with Undyne’s militia, and he wasn’t a guard or even a sentry anymore. He was an ambassador. But of course he had to throw himself into danger, just like always. He was Papyrus. Sans shouldn’t have expected anything less.

“Okay,” Sans forced out between his teeth. “So, uh. If things have calmed down, then. You gonna come home? I could…we’ve got some of that canned ravioli stuff, I could heat it up for you. You should probably eat something, yanno, just in case.”

“Oh! That--thank you, Sans, but--Toriel has called an emergency meeting! I’m about to head over there now…it is PROBABLY going to take awhile! After what happened, there will be A LOT to talk about!”

Sans said nothing.

“I am very sorry, brother,” Papyrus said, quieter now. “I know you wanted to hang out tonight.”

Sans covered his phone for a moment, just long enough to take a very deep breath.

“Nah, yanno, it’s okay, bro,” he said, in his best, most carefree voice. “Trust me, I understand. This is way more important, especially if someone got hurt. Monster-human relations is your whole thing. Just glad you’re okay. And Doggo, too.”

“WE ARE BOTH VERY OKAY! But, Sans, not that I think you’re not, but are YOU okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Pretty worn out from unpacking. Don’t worry about me, bro. You just worry about being the coolest diplomat ever.”

“NYEH HEH! IT COMES NATURALLY TO SOMEONE AS INCREDIBLE AS ME!”

“Plus now I got more time to pretend I unpacked everything.”

“UGH! PLEASE TELL ME YOU UNPACKED AT LEAST ONE BOX!”

Sans pointedly didn’t look at the stack of broken down cardboard boxes next to the couch.

“Eh, maybe half of one. Uh, let’s say three quarters.”

Papyrus responded with an incoherent sound of frustration. Sans chuckled a little.

“Good luck at the meeting, bro. Hope it goes well. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“YES! I WILL SEE YOU TOMORROW, SANS! MAYBE WE CAN DO SOME EPIC BROTHERLY BONDING TOMORROW INSTEAD!”

“That’d be cool. G’night, Paps.”

“GOODNIGHT, BROTHER!”

Sans hung up and dropped his phone into his pocket. He sighed and hunched a little, staring at the floor. Angry anti-monster protestors, one injured monster…and certainly it wouldn’t stop there. At least most of the other humans seemed to be on the side of monsterkind, or if not there, somewhere in the middle. Papyrus’s job would put him face to face with all kinds of angry humans. It was only a matter of time before he got hurt.

If one of them died up here, would Frisk Reset?

Sans scrubbed at his face with both hands. It was a horrible thing to think about.

He just wanted the world to stop for long enough to have even a little bit of time with his brother. Was that really too much to ask?

  
  
  
***

 

 

Sans dragged himself out of bed earlier than he would have liked. The remnants of a dream were fading before he could even try to grasp them, but he felt the same thing as usual--that he needed to go talk to Frisk.

He shook his head. No, Frisk was better off without him. Hell, that was the general rule for most people.

Lying around thinking about it wouldn’t help, and he knew from experience that he wouldn’t get back to sleep, so he headed downstairs. Papyrus’s boots weren’t near the door. He must have spent the night out again. He did that now and then, and Sans was too groggy to wonder about the why. Usually Papyrus fixed breakfast, so Sans looked blearily through the contents of the pantry. Not much. He could either do toast, assuming he could find the toaster, or he could just go out and get breakfast at Grillby’s.

The solution was obvious, of course. It just meant more moaning and groaning as Sans dragged himself back upstairs to get some semblance of dressed. He was achy, almost like he had exerted himself yesterday. Again, Sans wasn’t interested in remembering why.

Sans left a note for Papyrus on the couch, then headed for the door. He stifled a yawn as he pulled it open. He paused on the doorstep, blinking out at the world.

There was snow on the ground.

Sans looked up and down the street. There was actually less snow than usual, but it looked fresh. It was even coating all the nearby trees. Must have snowed last night. It was strange that no one had mentioned anything. Weather was so rare that it was usually a subject of gossip. The Grillby’s regulars might have said something, but Sans couldn’t remember.

Something was fundamentally strange about all of this, though Sans couldn’t put his finger on it. The light was dim, but a good deal brighter than usual. Maybe the ceiling had cracked?

Sans mentally shrugged and stepped out into the snow, heading for Grilby’s.

Grillby’s was only a block away, and it took Sans that long to realize that the entire building seemed to have moved. He stopped at the corner, frowning at the small, half-finished house where Grillby’s was supposed to be. Then he looked off further down the street. He couldn’t see the Librarby from here, either.

He…he must have gotten turned around. Grillby’s was in the opposite direction. The strange lighting was throwing him off, that was all.

He turned the other way and started walking, back past his own house. There were more houses this way. When had those gone up? His and Papyrus’s house was one of the last ones before the Waterfall border. Some of these houses were under construction, but others looked lived-in. And there were more trees than usual.

There was no Grillby’s in this direction. No Librarby, for that matter. And no Waterfall.

He must have gotten  _ really  _ drunk last night. Maybe Papyrus had made him stay at the inn, and that was why he was so disoriented. He stopped at a corner, fidgeting with the drawstring of his hoodie, looking up and down the cross street. Nothing was familiar. It was just houses. He couldn’t even see the river.

Okay, it was fine. He was just in the wrong section of town. He knew Snowdin like the back of his hand. Surely if he picked a direction and walked, he would eventually find a landmark. It wasn’t like the town was all that big. He started walking, hands in his pockets, trying not to look around too much. It wouldn’t do for one of the neighbors to see him and think he’d finally lost his mind.

After about a half an hour, Sans gave up. He was clearly dreaming, or this was some kind of very weird Reset, or  _ something _ was wrong with him. Whatever the case, he needed to just go home. This was stressing him out, and the best course of action was to just go try to sleep this off. Or wake up.

“Doc, if you’re messing with me, this is…this is a pretty, uh, detailed one this time…”

No answer, and no sense of Gaster anywhere. Sans turned back in the direction he thought he’d come from. The world had taken on a filmy, surreal sheen, like Sans was a few steps to the left of himself. His soul was fluttering in his chest.

It took him several minutes to realize he couldn’t remember where his house was.

He stopped in his tracks, hands balling into fists in his hoodie pockets. This was ridiculous. Snowdin had gotten completely rearranged, but he had  _ literally  _ just come this way. He hadn’t been walking for that long. The house had to be nearby. If he couldn’t use Grillby’s or the Librarby or any of the usual landmarks, then what? He wracked his mind, trying to remember what he had seen recently. This half-finished house he was standing next to, had he passed it before? Had he come up this side of the street, or the other side? How many turns had he made?

There was a sharp, raspy cry from nearby. Sans looked up, frowning. That sound was familiar. He spotted some kind of black bird perched on a roof, one block down and maybe a half a block to the right.

It was weird that a bird had gotten this far underground, but Sans decided not to worry about it. For some reason, this seemed like a good sign. He started walking again, heading for the bird. Thankfully, it stayed on the same roof, bobbing in place and occasionally fluttering its wings. Sans debated just teleporting to the roof, but it was absurdly dangerous to teleport when you didn’t know where you were. The thought made his head swim.

Sans reached the house with the bird. It was his own house, though the exterior looked different. Things looking different was becoming normal, however, so he tried not to think anything of it. It was enough of a relief to be back home. The bird looked down at him, twisting its head and giving another one of those calls.

“Heh. Thanks, dude.”

Sans practically slumped against the door once he was back inside. He covered his mouth with both hands, breathing fast through his nasal aperture. Even the living room looked different. The carpet was wrong. The furniture was in all the wrong places. There was no sock on the floor, no post-it notes.

Sans slid to the floor and buried his face in his hands. He had to get a hold of himself. This had to be a Reset. Some kind of strange, botched Reset that had rearranged all of Snowdin, maybe even the rest of the Underground. That had to be the answer, because the only other one was that Sans had finally gone insane. He started giggling quietly. If that was the case, he had lasted much, much longer than he’d thought he would.

No. It was just some issue with the most recent Reset, that was all. He could deal with the house being a little different. The couch was the same. His own room had been the same nightmarish mess this morning that it always was. He was already starting to calm down. It would be fine. He was fine. He wasn’t crazy.

He spent a few more minutes on the floor, until his breathing had evened out and his soul had stopped pounding quite so much. Then he made himself get up. He went to the kitchen, got out the bread, and pinched a bit off of one of the heels. Then he went back outside, just out onto the front steps, enough to toss the bread out into the snow. The black bird swooped down from the roof and grabbed the morsel in its beak.

A proper thank-you seemed important.

Sans went back in and closed the door firmly behind him. He took a shaky breath, then went and curled up on the couch. Nothing to do now but wait for Papyrus to get back. He had to be out training with Undyne. Sans turned on the TV for background noise, and it started playing a Mettaton rerun. It was one of the funnier ones. Mettaton had a talent for humor that Sans could appreciate. It was a good enough distraction for the time being.

By the first commercial break, Sans realized how hungry he was. That was a little strange. Hadn’t he just gone out for Grillby’s an hour ago? He could go back out, but Sans wasn’t sure he liked that idea. No, better to stay in for now. He’d just scrounge something from the kitchen. Someone had left the bread out, and toast sounded like a great idea. He just had to find the toaster.

  
  
  


 

It felt like ages before Papyrus finally came home. Sans was dozing in his corner of the couch when he heard the front door open.

“SANS, I AM HOME AT LAST! ARE YOU HERE? Ah, there you are!”

Sans stretched and yawned, blinking sleepily at Papyrus.

“Hey, bro,” he said, frowning a little when he noticed how tired and bedraggled Papyrus looked. “You look terrible.”

Papyrus gave him a dirty look as he unlaced his boots. “You are not much to look at right now either! Have you been sleeping there ALL MORNING?”

“Probably.” Sans propped both elbows on the couch arm. “Undyne run you ragged?”

“No?” Papyrus looked confused for a moment but dismissed it. “I spent the night at the ambassador HQ! It is somehow even LESS comfortable now that it is a building. The meetings also dragged VERY long last night.”

“Oh.” Ambassador stuff. There was no need for ambassadors underground, but something about it was vaguely familiar. And here he’d kind of hoped that once Papyrus got home, things would be a little less confusing. He’d need to be more careful about what sort of questions he asked. “That sucks.”

“It is alright, Sans! THE GREAT PAPYRUS NEEDS NO SLEEP! Or at least! The Great Papyrus needs…only a little sleep! Sometimes! Sometimes would be nice!”

Papyrus heaved a sigh and went to sit down on his own end of the couch, flopping into the corner. Up close, he looked downright exhausted. Sans peered at him. Had he been picking up extra shifts lately or something?

“Well, I know you hate naps, but maybe it’d be a good idea if you took one today. Catch up on some sleep. Even just an hour would be good.”

“NEVER!”

“Pfft, alright. Just don’t blame me if you fall asleep at your post. You know I’d never let you live it down.”

“THAT IS WHY! IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN!”

“So when’s your next shift?”

Papyrus folded his arms, disgruntled. “Ms. Toriel has…VERY STRONGLY SUGGESTED that I take the rest of the day off!” He paused. “And I wouldn’t really call them ‘shifts.’ A mascot’s work is NEVER TRULY DONE! Still…it seems that for the day…I have been relieved of my duties! SO THAT MEANS! I CAN SPEND THE DAY UNPACKING! AND HANGING OUT WITH MY VERY GREAT BROTHER!”

Sans considered asking how in the world Papyrus knew Toriel. Sans was pretty sure Papyrus had never been all the way out to the Ruins door. How did he even know her name? For that matter, how did Sans?

It had to just be another thing that had gotten rearranged. It was probably best to just not ask questions at all. Papyrus would find it weird if Sans asked about something he was, apparently, already supposed to know.

“Hanging out sounds great. Pretty sure I don’t work today.”

“Of COURSE you don’t work today,” Papyrus said, narrowing his eyesockets. “We should talk about that sometime, by the way! It is HIGH TIME you tried to find a job!”

“Selling hotdogs is a job.”

“ARGUABLE! And nevertheless, you haven’t been near your stand in weeks! MAYBE MONTHS!”

None of that sounded right, but Sans just shrugged languidly. Papyrus heaved a sigh and cast a tired look around the room, seeming to take in the state of things for the first time.

“You know, Sans, I’m impressed with you!” Papyrus said, smiling brightly. “I see you got the TV set up! And you unpacked much more than I was expecting! Did you even get to some of the kitchen stuff?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sans said, gesturing at the kitchen. “I figure you know where everything goes better than me. But I had to dig out the toaster.”

Papyrus squinted at him. “I hope you’ve eaten MORE THAN JUST TOAST TODAY!”

“Suuuure. I got Grillby’s for breakfast.”

Papyrus rolled his eyelights. “I should have known.”

“Might go back out for lunch. What time is it?”

“Past noon! And what about hanging out?”

“I can get takeout.”

“UGH! And make our brand new house smell like GRILLBY’S ALREADY? Besides, you REALLY shouldn’t eat at Grillby’s all the time! Now that we’re on the Surface, you should BROADEN YOUR FOOD HORIZONS!”

The Surface. Was that…was that what this was? No, that didn’t make any sense. There was snow out there.

“Heh, me, broaden my horizons? Perish the thought.” Sans slid off the couch to his feet. “I’ll just grab takeout, then we can buckle down for bro time. Won’t take long. You want a milkshake or somethin’?”

“I REFUSE TO ENCOURAGE YOUR BAD HABITS!” Papyrus said, folding his arms.

“Heh, alright, alright. Back in a bit,” Sans said, winking before he turned for the door. He opened it and paused in the doorway.

“Oh, huh, it’s snowing again.”

Fluffy snowflakes were drifting lazily from the gray ceiling, collecting on the steps and street. That was strange. It almost never snowed two days in a row. Had it…had it actually snowed yesterday? Had he just imagined that? Maybe that was a previous timeline.

“Oh, yes!” Papyrus called, leaning over the couch arm to look out the door. “I thought it would be boring, but it is SO MUCH PRETTIER UP HERE! Did you see all the trees? And apparently it snows much more often!”

“Huh. Okay.”

No questions. Questions would just make Papyrus worry. Sans shook his head to try and clear the fuzz in his mind. It was fine. He would just go to Grillby’s and then come right back. Easy. It should be easy. Grillby’s was just down the street. 

It was just down the street, right? Or…it had moved, hadn’t it? Yeah. It had moved. Like everything else. He  _ hadn’t  _ gotten Grillby’s this morning. He’d wandered aimlessly through this confusing version of Snowdin like some kind of of insane person. He’d had nothing but toast for breakfast, and it had taken longer than usual, because he’d needed to find the toaster. Because most of the kitchen supplies were in assorted boxes. Everything was in boxes. The house smelled like new lumber. There were no stains on the carpet.

San stared out at the snow gathering on the steps.

“UGH, SANS, IF YOU’RE GOING TO GO, THEN GO! DON’T JUST STAND THERE WITH THE DOOR OPEN LETTING THE HEAT OUT!”

“Right. Yeah, sorry.”

He’d just get lost again. He’d get lost, and then stumble home, and have to explain it to Papyrus, when there was no explanation. Papyrus wouldn’t even believe him, because how could someone get lost in a town the size of Snowdin after living here for…for how long? Ten…was it ten years? More? It felt like more. Either way, Papyrus would just assume it was a prank, or that Sans was just drunk again.

Was that better than thinking that Sans was crazy?

Sans closed the door.

“Eh, maybe you’re right.” he said, as carelessly as he could. “Broaden my horizons and all. Uh, how about…”

Papyrus blinked at him as Sans paused, jerking a thumb toward the kitchen and desperately trying to form an idea.

“How about we…unpack the kitchen.” That sounded right. Because there were a bunch of boxes in there. Boxes all over the place. “And…make something? We got ingredients probably, right?”

Papyrus lit up like a star, eyelights going huge.

“Really? You--YOU WANT TO COOK WITH ME?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we should, yanno. Break in the kitchen. Properly and all, or something.”

“That is a WONDERFUL IDEA, BROTHER!” Papyrus sprang to his feet and darted to the kitchen in approximately a nanosecond. “I THINK WE HAVE EVERYTHING WE NEED TO MAKE PANCAKES!”

Sans sighed very quietly, relieved. He grinned and followed Papyrus into the kitchen. 

It felt like ages since they had done anything like this. Pancakes were simple enough that, their powers combined, they could actually make something not just edible, but tasty. Sans sat at the table and unpacked ingredients and utensils, handing things to Papyrus as he needed them. It was something that was impossible to screw up, and it was familiar to watch Papyrus bustling around the kitchen and testing out the stove. He could let himself relax. It made everything feel more real. Like he was truly at home.

“WE REALLY SHOULD DO THIS MORE OFTEN!” Papyrus said as he flipped pancakes.

Somehow he had gotten flour on his back, so Sans reached over and brushed it off. “Yeah, I’ve missed this.”

Papyrus glanced back at him. “Sans, I am sorry that I have been SO BUSY lately! I feel bad that we have BARELY had ANY TIME to hang out lately!”

“What, nah, bro, don’t worry about it,” Sans said, waving a hand. “I get it. You’re doing important work for the Underground, plus I know how you are. Heh, you actually like being busy, like a total weirdo. So I get it. You don’t gotta worry about me.”

“I DO LIKE BEING BUSY, BUT LATELY IT HAS BEEN…” Papyrus paused and turned to look back at Sans, giving him a curious look. “‘For the Underground’?”

He must have said the wrong thing. Sans shrugged, staying casual.

“Yeah?”

“That is just…an odd way to put it.”

“Eh, yanno. Force of habit?”

Papyrus made a thoughtful sound and turned back to the pancakes.

“It’s a SHAME, THOUGH that we don’t have anything to put on these! ACTUALLY, SANS! Why don’t you run down to the shop? MS. BUNNY SAID SHE’S FINALLY BEEN ABLE TO STOCK CONDIMENTS, SO! SHE PROBABLY HAS SYRUP!”

Sans hesitated. The shop. He knew where the shop was, but…if it was like the rest of Snowdin, it had probably moved too. And he couldn’t exactly ask where it was. The idea of going outside at all made his soul lurch. He’d just get lost again.

“I don’t mind ‘em dry,” he said.

“SAAAANS! THEY ARE NOT PROPER PANCAKES WITHOUT SYRUP!”

“Well, how ‘bout you let me take over, and you go out and get it?” Sans slid off the chair, grinning again. “I’m still pretty worn out. Think I’d rather stay in.”

“DOES YOUR LAZINESS KNOW NO BOUNDS? The shop isn’t even that far!”

“Ehhhh. Walking, yanno?”

Papyrus squinted at him, annoyed. “As if you wouldn’t just USE A SHORTCUT like always!”

“Well, uh, I’m--tryin’ to cut back.”

Papyrus’s squint turned into a frown. “Yes…come to think of it, I haven’t seen you use a shortcut AT ALL in…quite awhile! IF IT IS NOT FOR EXERCISE REASONS, then why?”

“Just, yanno. I know you don’t like ‘em.”

“That has NEVER stopped you before.”

“Just trying to cut back, that’s all.”

Papyrus studied Sans for a long moment before rolling his eyelights and groaning. “ALRIGHT, FINE! I WILL GO! TRY NOT TO LET THE PANCAKES BURN WHILE I AM GONE!”

Sans grinned brightly and took the spatula.

“Nah, I’m just gonna see if I can flip one of ‘em onto the ceiling.”

“TRY NOT TO RUIN OUR BRAND NEW HOUSE, EITHER!”

“No promises, bro.”

Papyrus left, and Sans tried to focus on the pancakes. This was all harder than he expected. It had always been simple to just lie and keep secrets and hide things, but usually he knew  _ what  _ he was trying to hide. It was the same feeling he’d had years and years ago, when he first stepped out of the machine and didn’t know where he was or which way was up.

And Papyrus was clever. He was already picking up on the fact that something was wrong. Sans couldn’t keep this up forever.

There was a knock at the door. It was much too soon to be Papyrus, and it wasn’t like Papyrus to forget his keys. Sans slid the last of the pancakes out onto the plate and switched off the burner, then went to answer the door.

Frisk was standing on the doorstep, bundled up against the snow. They were smiling and holding a colorful giftbag. Frisk, except he wasn’t supposed to know their name yet. No one was. And they weren’t supposed to come to the house until--until--where were they in the script again? He should know this. If nothing else, he should know this, should have the script automatic and ready to go. He should know exactly what to say without even having to think about it.

“Uh, hey, kid,” he said, and it was an effort this time to keep the confusion off his face.

“Hi, Sans,” Frisk said cheerfully. “Um. I wanted to. To get you and Papyrus something. Since you’re all moved in to your new house. Mom says it’s. It’s called a housewarming gift.”

They held the bag out to him, and Sans couldn’t help but smile for real. Confusion and the rest of it aside, Frisk was a sweet kid. He knew that much.

“Aw, man.” Sans took the bag, careful not to accidentally brush their fingers. They weren’t a big fan of touch, he remembered, at least not from Sans.

“This is real nice of you, kiddo, thanks,” he said, beaming. He could manage this. He didn’t need a script. “Paps just stepped out, but he’ll be back soon. Think I’d better wait till he’s here to open it, yeah? You wanna come in and wait for him? We just made a whole ton of pancakes. You’re welcome to a few, if you want. Could probably use help eating ‘em all.”

“Um…” They paused, looking up at him. Their expression shifted ever so slightly, like they were steeling themselves for something. Calling on their Determination. Then they smiled again.

“Okay. Yeah. That could be--cool. Even-- _ cooler  _ than out here.”

Sans chuckled and resisted the urge to ruffle their hair. “Hehe, good one. Come on in.”

He tucked the giftbag under his arm and opened the door wider to allow them. They followed him in, tugging their scarf a bit looser and stomping snow off their boots. They looked around, taking in the living room and the kitchen.

“It looks pretty different,” they said, nodding.

So it wasn’t just him. That was good.

“Yeah, heh. Still getting used to it.” He set the giftbag on an endtable near the couch and headed back into the kitchen. He’d remembered to turn the stove off. That was good too, even if it meant the pancakes might get cold before Papyrus got back. At least nothing would burn. At least he could be trusted to not completely destroy anything just yet.

“It smells good,” Frisk said, trailing after him. Sans chuckled again, detecting the hint of tentative amusement in their tone.

“Heh, don’t worry, I supervised. These are edible. Don’t have anything to put on them, at least not till Paps gets back. He’ll be real happy to see you.”

He’d be really excited to see a human. He’d wanted to see one for so long.

“I saw him last night,” Frisk said, hovering at the kitchen door. “At the meeting.”

“Right. Right.” Meeting. So they…they had to be further along than Sans had thought. The script was useless right now, so maybe this was…sometime after Frisk had first arrived in Snowdin. Maybe closer toward the end of things? They must just be back to visit or something. Get some courage before…facing King Asgore? Sure. That sounded plausible.

“Anyway, you can sit down if you want.”

Sans scooped a few pancakes onto two smaller plates while Frisk sat down. He found some silverware and handed the lot to Frisk, then took his own seat across from them.

“You wanna wait till Paps gets back with the syrup?”

“I don’t mind them dry. Thanks, Sans.”

They eyed him for a moment, and then eyed the pancakes. Sans thought they might be checking for pranks. Then they very carefully sliced a little piece off and ate it. Sans saw their eyebrows rise a fraction.

“Oh. It’s good.”

“Heh, told ya. It’s not always a spaghetti nightmare around here.” Sans took a bite for himself. Soft, fluffy and sweet, only a little overcooked. Almost perfect.

“So how you doin’, kid?”

“I’m okay,” they said between bites. “Busy. There’s lots going on.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” Was this before or after he met them in the Last Corridor? How close were they to Asgore? Usually he was so much better at reading them, at figuring out what was going on. This was one of the very, very few things he was supposed to be good at.

“Mom thinks, um. The protestors might keep coming back.” Frisk said, face twisting with discomfort and something like guilt. “I don’t like it.”

Protestors. It almost sounded familiar, but it also…didn’t make any sense. Who in the Underground would be protesting, and what? There had been some unrest in New Home due to a food shortage, but that had been awhile ago. He was pretty sure that was awhile ago.

“That sucks, kiddo. At least you’re getting a well-earned, pancake-themed break,” he said. “You deserve it. You’re like my bro--pretty much just nonstop since you got here, huh.”

“I guess,” they said, nodding and munching their pancake. “I just. Feel like I should…”

They trailed off, looking up at him suddenly. He tilted his head.

“Should what?”

“Never mind.” They looked past him toward the front door, then refocused on their pancake. Sans desperately hoped that Papyrus got back soon. Frisk would be so much more comfortable with him around, and Sans could stop trying and failing to make smalltalk.

“Well, uh. You know I believe in you, kiddo,” he said, and meant it, even if he wasn’t looking at them. “I’m still rooting for you.”

He couldn’t see their expression, but there was a tone of faint relief in their voice when they said, “Thanks, Sans.”

He smiled to himself. Despite everything, he was still certain that--at least for now--he was on their side. This was a good timeline. In the better ones, they always tried their best, and that had to count for something. Besides, if he didn’t believe in them, that might be enough to make them Reset. They needed people on their side. They needed to stay--happy. Satisfied. Surely if they stayed satisfied, they wouldn’t feel the need to Reset. They wouldn’t feel the need to turn this into a bad one.

But all the same, he felt the faint edges of a memory whispering in his mind.

“Actually, kid, I uh, I’d been meaning to talk to you,” he said, toying with his fork. “Since it’s been a little bit since we talked, I think.”

He looked over at them, because if he was going to do this, he would need to see their face, their expression. And maybe he at least owed them eye contact. They looked up at him, their smile fading into something more neutral, their eyes fixing on him. They went a bit more rigid in their chair, tense.

“Okay,” they said, sounding like they were bracing themselves. “What is it?”

He’d been careful. They both had. And he could remember now that yes, they’d already met in the golden hallway. This had to be just before they went to face Asgore, to whatever end that would bring. Maybe that was the real reason they had come here today. He’d expected them to want to talk more, after everything that was said in the golden hallway. After giving them the key. After…they must have been to the basement by now. They must have seen it. They must know.

But they had both been careful. Neither of them had fully admitted to anything. He had sort of figured that with Asgore and all of it, they had enough on their plate right now. That maybe they would find time to talk about the elephant in the room once everything else was said and done. Assuming they were still in the Underground, or still alive, at that point.

This had to be it.

“Frisk, uh, why did…”

There was so much he wanted to ask, and so much he really  _ didn’t _ want to know. So much he had carefully tried to keep himself from thinking about. It was pointless to wonder about, just like it was pointless to actually ask them, because it wasn’t like they had to tell the truth. And even if they did tell him, even if they did explain everything--their abilities, their actions, their desires--what was to keep them from simply Resetting it all away? Maybe he had already asked them everything, several times over. Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe ignorance really was bliss. Because knowing the truth of it all might be a thousand times worse than just wondering.

But if this was going to be it, then there was…there was so much he could ask. What did the anomaly really want? Why did they keep Resetting, even when things were going well? Why did they spare everyone sometimes? Why did they hurt or kill people the other times? Why did they kill his brother? Because they had, hadn’t they? He couldn’t remember it, not really. Just a sense of it. Just deja vu. Just dreams. They’d killed Papyrus, once upon a time. They’d probably done worse. They’d probably done everything to the Underground that they possibly  _ could _ do, explored every nook and cranny, achieved every possible ending, because they must have been at this for so, so very long now. They must have.

Why did they do it?

Why did they come here at all?

“Why did you climb the mountain?”

Sans frowned. That wasn’t quite what he’d meant to ask. Only--it felt right. It felt…all at once, that felt like the only question that really mattered, and he wasn’t sure why. That question, that phrasing. They were a child, a human child. A human child that had climbed a mountain that was said to make people disappear. That was--there was something terribly wrong about that. All the other things he had thought about, had wondered about, had tried to figure out on his own, and that had never been one of them. Why had it never occurred to him to wonder about it before?

Why had he never wondered why a child might want to disappear?

It wasn’t what he had meant to ask. And from the look on Frisk’s face, it wasn’t what they had been expecting, either. They looked like they had been braced for something else, and this had taken the feet out from under them. He had blindsided them. Like before. Like always.

Their eyes went wide, showing whites all the way around brown irises. They set down their fork and gripped the edge of the table until their knuckles turned white. Their mouth hung just slightly open. They leaned forward until their narrow chest was pressed against the table.

“What…?”

Their voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear them.

He tried to hold their gaze, but it was even harder than usual. They were staring at him so intently.

“Why did--why did you climb the mountain, Frisk?”

They pushed back from the table, so suddenly their chair screeched against the linoleum. Their face had gone ashen. They weren’t just shocked--they were  _ terrified. _

Sans raised his hands slowly.

“Kid, I don’t--”

“Why?” they whispered, their voice strained like they might start screaming. “Why are. Why are you asking  _ now? Why now?” _

“I…look, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would…upset you that much. Just forget I said--”

“No.” They shook their head vigorously. “Please tell me.  _ Why now.  _ Why--why now, when we’re all already--when it doesn’t--why  _ now?” _

He stared up at them. They were trembling, gritting their teeth, twisting their hands in their scarf, more scared than he could ever remember seeing them.

“I…” Why  _ was _ he asking now? Why did it feel so right, so important? So urgent?

He scrubbed at his face with one hand, head starting to hurt.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I know there’s a lot we… I know we both kinda--ignore it. Or maybe that’s just me. I’m so used to pretending…”

It was too honest. It was irrelevant. It wasn’t what they had asked.

“I just felt like I should,” he said, shaking his head. “I felt like--everything else aside, it was something I needed to ask. Something I should’ve asked sooner. Like it was too important to ignore. I don’t know, kid. I just--it  _ is  _ important, isn’t it? Why a kid like you would…climb a mountain like that.”

They had twisted their hands so tightly into their scarf that it had to be hurting. He started to get up, thinking maybe he could get them to let go, but they flinched backward.

They drew a breath, and it sounded more like a gasp than anything. Their eyes flicked to the side.

“He’s not supposed to--”

Frisk cut themselves off with a strange little twitch, like something had pushed them. They blinked hard and their eyes flickered. For a moment, Sans could have sworn they had changed color. But then they ducked their head, letting their hair fall down their face, obscuring their eyes.

When they spoke again, their voice was different too. Still quiet, but now harsh and clear, self-assured.

“You’re not supposed to remember that.”

“Frisk?”

“You always do this,” they hissed. “You always have to be unpredictable. The  _ special _ one who  _ knows everything. _ The one who can drop the bombshell, who can pull the rug on people. Is it just because  _ it’s funny to you,  _ Sans? Do you just like to watch people scramble?”

Sans had no idea what to say. He sat rigid in his chair, eyelights small as he stared at them. It was like Frisk had vanished, leaving someone completely different in their place.

Someone who could see right through him and cut straight to his soul.

They twitched again and gave a full-body shudder, letting go of their scarf. Then they shrank back against the kitchen counter and wrapped their arms around themselves.

“I-I’m sorry,” they whispered, in their normal voice once more. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.”

Sans blinked slowly, still speechless. There was a long, ringing silence in the kitchen.

“Frisk…” he said, as quietly as he could, afraid of scaring them further. “Kid, I’m not--”

The front door slammed open, making both of them jump.

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAS PROCURED SYRUP!” Papyrus bellowed as he marched inside.  “MARVEL AT HIS INCREDIBLE--OH, HELLO, HUMAN! I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE COMING OVER TODAY!”

“I’m sorry,” Frisk said, darting toward the door. “Thank you for. The pancakes.”

Sans got to his feet.

“Frisk, wait.”

They bolted past Papyrus, who stepped out of the way just in time. Then they were out the door and gone. Papyrus blinked and frowned at the door as it slammed closed, then looked back at Sans.

“They were CERTAINLY in a hurry! And they looked upset! Sans, what happened?”

Sans just shook his head, unable to answer.


	6. LOAD 05345: Ending #???: Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus asks a question. Sans chats with demons. Memory is a strange thing.

Sans woke to a deep ache in his upper spine and shoulders, his head pillowed on his arms. He’d fallen asleep at his desk again. Worse, he’d drooled all over the report he’d been writing, which meant he’d have to do the whole thing over. He groaned as he sat up, rubbing at his neck to try and work the kinks out. There was a blanket draped over him and it came dislodged as he moved, pooling on the floor behind his chair.

Sans blinked down at it, his mind sluggish. Must have been Papyrus. Damn. His brother had probably come in to check on him only to find him asleep on the job. Why hadn’t he woken him up? Sans checked the clock, but fortunately he hadn’t overslept.

Still, Papyrus needed him on his A game. There was always so much work to do.

He got up, massaging his spine, and tried to make himself at least slightly presentable--straightening his clothes, splashing some water in his face. It was going to be a busy day, with Papyrus spending most of it in Waterfall to address some issues with local infrastructure. Sans hoped he could catch him on the way out, at least to give him the morning update. Once he felt a bit more alive and had gathered all the necessary papers, he headed for the throne room.

Papyrus wasn’t there, and neither were the guards he begrudgingly brought along as his entourage. Sans heaved a sigh and headed to the dining room instead--originally just meant for royalty, but now converted into more of a common eating area. There were a few other castle staffers having their breakfast at assorted tables, but no one was in line at the counter. The atmosphere was quiet and subdued. It was always quiet and subdued when Papyrus wasn’t around. Sans paid it no mind and made his way to the counter.

“Hey Ina,” he said around a yawn. “Is it pancake day or waffle day?”

The rabbit monster working the kitchen gave him a faint smile.

“It’s omelette day, sweetie.”

“Right.” Sans leaned heavily on the counter. “Days all bleed together, yanno? I’ll have the usual.”

Ina’s smile broadened and stepped back to the stove off to the side. “Extra cheese, extra tomatoes and extra ketchup, coming right up.”

“And as much coffee as you’re legally allowed to give me. You’re my hero. Did my b--did the king head out already?”

“Bright and early,” she said while she ladled egg mix into one of the waiting pans.

“No one thought to wake me?”

She gave him a sympathetic look while she sprinkled ingredients into the bubbling eggs. “I overheard him tell the guards to let you sleep. You look exhausted, sweetie. Another all-nighter?”

“The refugee transfer requests aren’t gonna approve themselves,” Sans said with a shrug. “One last batch and they’ll be done, though. Gettin’ the Ursins out today if I can swing it.”

She glanced up at him again. “Is  _ anyone  _ staying in Snowdin?”

Sans scratched the side of his skull, mentally running down the list of names. “Ice Wolf, the ice slime family, Nacarat and…uh, well, Ms. B.”

She took a very long, very deep breath, folding the omelette in half.

“Hyzen’s always been stubborn,” she said thinly. “Even Dizzy had the good sense to get out while the getting was good. But once Hyzen sets her mind to something… Well. At least she won’t be alone in that town.”

“I know what it’s like to have a stubborn sibling.” Sans smiled a little. “No reason you can’t go visit, yeah?”

She shook her head. “Too many bad memories.”

Sans didn’t answer. There was no point. Everyone had bad memories.

Ina slid the finished omelette out of the pan and onto a plate, then handed it and a whole bottle of ketchup to Sans. She also held out an entire pot of coffee, winking. Sans took it and grinned.

“You’re seriously a life-saver.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie. Don’t work too hard, alright? Everyone needs a break sometimes.”

Sans took his usual seat at a corner table, setting down his breakfast and spreading papers across the rest of the table. There were a thousand things to do. Refugees had been flooding into Hotland and New Home ever since the anomaly had come through, and all of them needed to be processed in order of priority. With Snowdin now economically cut off from the rest of the Underground, the people who remained there needed regular emergency supplies. The Waterfall residents were petitioning to build a new village where the old Temmie village had stood. Workers at the Core were desperately requesting volunteers to help run the place and prevent more power outages. And there was also a new stack of complaints from monsters who wanted more than just mediocre pasta for their daily rations. At least Papyrus wasn’t sticking to only spaghetti anymore, though it had taken convincing, and a lot of cooking lessons from Ina.

Sans’s wrist was hurting before he had even finished breakfast. He flexed his hand a few times, drinking coffee directly from the pot. With luck, he’d be able to finish the more important paperwork before all the usual meetings later. He was hoping to squeeze in the Ursin family’s housing request before lunch. It would be nice to have one of the zones finally squared away.

Sans moved himself and his work back to his room after breakfast. He could do paperwork in yesterday’s clothes, but actually interacting with people demanded a little bit more decorum. Papyrus didn’t insist on formal attire--he had complained in private about his too-large robes several times--but appearances were important. It was almost funny, seeing as Sans had never cared about his appearance before. But this wasn’t about him. This was about instilling confidence, both in the current government and in Papyrus himself.

Monsters needed to believe in something again.

Sans finished a few more reports while he got dressed, downed the last of his coffee, rolled up his sleeves and headed out into the castle proper. The rest of the morning and part of the afternoon was one meeting after another. First was with some representatives from the Royal Guard, about all the usual things--improvements to armor, improvements to patrols, and nominations for the position of Captain. There was still no one able or willing to fill Undyne’s boots, and probably never would be. Next was a meeting with some people from the Core, also more of the same. The Core didn’t have the manpower anymore to reliably provide power to the entire Underground, and no matter what anyone tried--threats and bribes included--monsters simply weren’t volunteering to try and help. It was getting to the point that, within the coming weeks, they were going to need to have a serious talk about using rolling blackouts. And that was the good-case scenario. The worst case scenario involved outright cutting power to low-priority areas.

Snowdin was going to get shafted if it came to that. There were fewer than ten residents now. They’d probably have to resort to heating their homes with their own magic. It made Sans sick to think about it.

After that was a one-hour period between meetings. Sans’s head was swimming and his whole body was aching, but a nap was simply out of the question. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept for more than five hours at a time. Instead he used the time to finish up the last of the Ursins’ paperwork.

More meetings. More monsters with complaints, more reports from clinics and hospitals about growing rates of depression and general mental illness, more discussion about trying to rebuild the Ruins as a secondary refugee area. More long talks with engineers, construction workers, business owners and scientists. Another day of trying to keep an entire nation from simply giving up, despite the constant voice in Sans’s head telling him he should just do the same. After all, it wasn’t like any of this mattered. There was no real point in working so hard. This was just another dead-end timeline that would eventually disappear with a Reset.

Papyrus was counting on him, though. The king was already working a thousand times harder than Sans. As good as he was at “making people give up on giving up,” as he put it, he still needed someone to lighten the load behind the scenes. All Sans was really good for was the grunt work.

Still, by the time Papyrus returned that evening, Sans had gotten a good deal of work done. At least by his own standards. A bell rang somewhere deeper in the castle to signify the king’s safe return. Sans gathered the most relevant documents into a folder and headed for the throne room.

Papyrus was there this time, dismissing his guards and inspecting the garden. Sans grinned tiredly when he saw his brother. Papyrus looked somewhat worn out, but he was always a bit worn out these days. It was a comfort just to see him.

“--before cooking the nightly pasta rations. AND ALSO! Please tell Ina Bunny that I would like to speak to her afterward, if she has the time! AS ALWAYS, THE GREAT KING PAPYRUS THANKS YOU FOR YOUR HARD WORK AND YOUR PROTECTION!” 

The three guards smiled to each other and bowed. Not too deeply. Papyrus had made it clear early on that he didn’t care for those kinds of pleasantries. 

Papyrus glanced past the guards as they bowed and spotted Sans waiting in the doorway. Sans’s grin widened at him, but Papyrus seemed to hesitate for a moment before looking quickly at the guards again.

“Anyway, go on! Go get some dinner! That is, GREAT KING PAPYRUS IS FORMALLY DISMISSING YOU!”

The guards chuckled, saluted and dispersed with a few muttered words. Sans stepped further into the throne room to let them pass.

“Welcome back, Your Majesty,” Sans said as the guards disappeared down the hall.

Papyrus stiffened a little at the title but shook it off quickly. He put his hands on his hips.

“Hello, Sans! We have had a VERY productive and successful day!”

“Glad to hear it. They finally agree on what to do with the old Temmie village?”

“The last Temmie has agreed to let some of the refugees move in and rebuild! Just so long as they respect the Way of Tem! Although she was unclear as to what that meant? BUT! It is still SEVERAL STEPS in the right direction!”

“Aw, man. That’s great. One less thing to worry about.” Sans pulled his folder out from under his arm. “So, you want my report now, or over dinner?”

“ACTUALLY, SANS! I wanted to! Talk to you about something!” Papyrus gave a strange smile, thin and distant.

“Well, hey, I’m right here.”

“Maybe--more in private?”

“Uh…” Sans paused, mentally running down a short list of rooms that would be devoid of people at this hour. “Yeah, okay. Second conference room?”

“Yes, that will work! And--you can give me the rundown while we walk! Just the major points!”

“Heh, the  _ bare bones?” _

Papyrus didn’t even react. Up close, he looked more tired than usual, and oddly strained.

“Yes, that! Let’s go, lead the way!”

Something must have happened to upset Papyrus. Maybe he’d overheard one of the guards talking about him again, or maybe seeing the Waterfall refugee conditions up close had unsettled him. Well, if it was just people gossiping or talking shit, that was easy enough to deal with. Sans could always casually remind people that with the current state of the Underground, it would be very difficult to get a new job.

“Alright, well.” Sans started walking and the king followed, flipping through papers as he went. “Bad news is the Core’s more strained than ever, and we might have to start thinking about rolling blackouts. So that’s, uh, that’s gonna have to be a discussion sometime soon. Some good news, though. Finished up the last transfer requests from Snowdin, and got a house in New Home ready to go, so the whole Ursin family can get out as soon as you sign off on it.”

“Oh, that’s, that’s excellent to hear,” Papyrus said, sounding distracted. Sans glanced back at him. Papyrus was staring at Sans’s back, frowning in deep thought. When he noticed Sans looking, he blinked and smiled again.

“Go on!”

“Uh, yeah.” Sans flipped through a few more papers, almost dropping a few. “So, we also found a new guy to make armor for the guards, and he’s ready to take orders for replacements and repairs, so--course of the next month, should have the whole Royal Guard fully outfitted. Also it’s really great that Temmie finally agreed, cause I’ve got two potential contractors lined up to oversee construction, repairs, all that stuff. Oh, and there was a survey…”

Sans paused again to look back and hold out a sheet of paper to Papyrus. Papyrus was distracted again, shaking his head to clear whatever he was thinking about. He took the paper after a moment. When he looked at it, however, it seemed like he was staring right through it.

“We surveyed a bunch of the Waterfall refugees. 54% said they’d be willing to move back to Waterfall if there’s a stable, well-defended community there again. So depending on how quick we can get things built at the Temmie Village, that should take a bit of the pressure off of New Home.”

“That’s great,” Papyrus said absently. “That’s excellent.”

They had reached the conference room. Sans went in, double-checking to make sure no one was around. It was one of the smaller rooms, just a round table and a few chairs, meant for more private meetings.

Papyrus closed the door behind them. Sans set his folder down on the table and yawned behind his hand. Papyrus turned back to him, frowning again, this time with concern.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asked. “I found you passed out at your desk again.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Your Majesty,” Sans said, wincing. “I didn’t mean to. I was trying to finish the Snowdin transfer requests. I did get ‘em done, though, the Ursins are the last. I’ll, uh, I’ll try not to fall asleep on the job again.”

“That’s not really what I…” Papyrus trailed off and sighed very heavily. He sounded downright exhausted. He braced both hands on the back of a chair and leaned over it like it was the only thing holding him up. “Never mind.”

Sans studied him in silence for a moment, pushing up a sleeve that had started to unroll past his elbow.

“Your Majesty, is, uh, is everything--?”

“Do you really HAVE to do that all the time?” Papyrus said, annoyed. “Even when no one else is around?”

Sans sighed quietly. They’d been over this at least a thousand times now.

“It’s about consistency,” he said. “So I don’t accidentally call you ‘bro’ when someone  _ is  _ around.”

“It wouldn’t be the end of the world if you did.”

“Heh.” That was funnier than it should have been and Sans had to stop himself from laughing. “No, uh. It probably wouldn’t. But it’s--you know this, bro, we’ve talked about this. People love you, but they gotta also  _ respect _ you. And trust you. Asgore could get away with being casual because everyone knew him. But monsterkind is still getting used to you. If people see me being all…disrespectful, just the doofy advisor being all casual with the king, that’s just…it’s a bit of faith we might not get back, yanno?”

Papyrus was silent for a bit, staring at nothing. Sans took the opportunity to sink into a chair, still watching his brother closely. Papyrus had had a few off days since taking the throne, days when the pressure of ruling got to him, but this seemed different. 

“I do know, yes,” Papyrus finally said, resigned. “I just miss it.”

“Yeah.” Sans stifled another yawn. “I do too.”

Papyrus pushed himself up a bit but kept his grip on the back of the chair. “Anyway, Sans, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Sure, Your Majesty.” Sans sat forward in his own chair. “What is it? You seem kinda down. Did something go wrong in Waterfall?”

“Sort…of.”

“Well, uh. Maybe you should sit?”

“No, I think I prefer to stand.”

“O…kay. Hey--it’s alright, Your M…bro. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Whatever it was, Sans would do everything in his power to fix it. His whole purpose was to take some of the load off of Papyrus’s shoulders. If he had just worked harder  _ before,  _ then maybe…

No point thinking about it now. Or ever.

Papyrus was silent for what felt like a long time, staring off into a corner, unseeing. He took a breath. Then he turned to look at Sans, expression pained as his eyelights met Sans’s.

“Sans, why didn’t you tell me that Undyne was dead?”

Sans stared at him. He felt the world give way beneath his feet.

“What?”

Papyrus’s grip tightened on the char.

“Is it just Undyne, or is it all of them?” Papyrus’s voice was perfectly calm despite his expression. “Everyone you said went on vacation?”

“I…”

Sans wasn’t an idiot. He knew this day would come eventually. The lie wasn’t one that he could possibly hope to maintain. He had just thought that there would be a Reset before it came to this.

“I don’t…”

Papyrus was still staring at him. Sans squirmed in the chair and looked away.

“Look, they’re just--I’m sure Undyne’s--everyone’s just--”

“Don’t.”

The soft plea in Papyrus’s voice was a thousand times worse than anger.

“Please don’t lie anymore.”

Sans couldn’t breathe. He leaned forward in his chair, gripping the edge of the table.

“Papyrus--”

“It went so well at the Temmie Village that we had a bit of spare time,” Papyrus said, letting go of the chair and starting to pace. “I thought I would stop by Undyne’s house. Just to see it again! To see if maybe she had suddenly and miraculously returned! But her house was as quiet as the last time I saw it. Only--this time, Sans, there was someone there.”

He paused and looked back at Sans again. Sans could only keep staring at him, eyelights small.

“Do you remember MK, from Snowdin? They were at Undyne’s house. They were leaving flowers at her doorstep.”

“MK, but they--”

“I asked them if they were a friend of Undyne’s.” Papyrus reached up and rubbed his face with both hands as he paced. “They said they had admired her! Had thought she was the COOLEST, BRAVEST HERO in all the Underground! I said that I agreed! And that I hoped she would be back very soon! And they got sad.”

“How--”

“They told me she was dead.” Papyrus stopped with his back to Sans, his shoulders hunched. “They said they had watched it happened. They said it was the human. They had…they said they had been following the human around through Waterfall, because they wanted to try and meet Undyne! And they did get to meet Undyne! They said they almost fell off a bridge in Waterfall, but Undyne was there to save them! It made me remember how HAPPY AND AMAZED AND AWED I was when I met Undyne as well!”

Sans stayed quiet, watching his brother’s shoulders start to shake.

“They kept following her…and…they hid in some tall grass when Undyne confronted the human. They said…Undyne fought bravely. She fought so hard! But the human just… You know, I, I almost didn’t believe it? Because…when I talked to the little human, and they showed me Mercy, and…I thought maybe…I really thought I had gotten them to choose a different path! And yet they went on to…”

Sans slid to his feet. Papyrus braced one hand against the wall.

“Your--Papyrus, it wasn’t your--”

“I think part of me always knew.” Papyrus gave a weak little chuckle that was almost a sob. “Vacation. It’s not a very good lie, Sans. And I am not that stupid. I think part of me was just…wondering if you would just tell me the truth on your own. I--I just wasn’t sure the truth would be so…”

“No, Papyrus, I didn’t think you were stupid, that wasn’t what--I can explain.” Sans reached out, hesitating before laying his hand on Papyrus’s back.

Papyrus jerked away, shooting a wide-eyed look at Sans like he had never even seen him before. Sans drew back, folding his hands together and dropping his gaze to the floor.

“I-I can explain,” Sans said, voice small.

“You always can.”

Sans flinched, curling in on himself. He could feel Papyrus’s eyelights boring into him.

“It’s all of them, isn’t it? Everyone you said was on vacation. Dr. Alphys. King Asgore. Mettaton. The Guard Dogs, all those people in Snowdin and Waterfall and everywhere.”

Sans nodded.

“The human killed all of them.”

Sans nodded again.

“Why didn’t you ever  _ tell _ me, Sans?” Papyrus’s voice hitched. “It’s been  _ months.” _

“I just…” Sans sagged where he stood. “I, I didn’t know how to…to tell you, bro. I wanted…I wanted you to keep having hope. And things were so busy, and there were so many new--responsibilities, I didn’t want you to--”

“Were you  _ ever _ going to tell me? Or were you hoping I would just never figure it out, like always?”

Sans’s eyelights flickered out. Papyrus spread his hands helplessly.

“I had to hear it from a stranger. I-I’ve spent all this time missing her and missing everyone. I haven’t been able to grieve! How could--how could you TAKE THAT from me, Sans?”

“I wanted…” Sans balled a hand in the front of his shirt. “I thought I was protecting you.”

“Protecting ME? Or protecting YOURSELF?”

“What? Papyrus--”

Papyrus slammed a fist on the table and Sans jumped.

“IT’S ALWAYS EASIER ON YOU IF I DON’T HAVE TO THINK ABOUT ANYTHING UNPLEASANT, ISN’T IT! IT’S EASIER IF I DON’T HAVE TO KNOW ABOUT THE BAD THINGS! BUT IT DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT ANYMORE, SANS! IT CAN’T WORK LIKE THAT! I’M THE KING! I HAVE TO KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON, SANS, OR I WON’T--I WON’T BE ABLE TO--THEY’RE ALL COUNTING ON ME, ALL THE MONSTERS WHO ARE LEFT! HOW CAN I…possibly rule if I don’t even…”

Papyrus buried his face in his hands and sank into a chair with a wretched sob. He bent forward and the crown slipped off his head. It bounced off the floor and rolled away, stopping near Sans’s feet.

Sans stared at it but made no move to pick it up.

“Papyrus,” he whispered. “I am…I’m so sor--”

“Sans.” Papyrus spoke into his hands, voice ragged. “Please just leave.”

Sans felt like his soul was sinking into a pit.

“…Bro?”

“Please go.” Papyrus didn’t move, didn’t even look at him. “I cannot be around you right now.”

Sans felt, for a moment, as if he could see all of time, stretching out in all directions, all the possibilities contained within the loops. This…this didn’t really matter. This ending, this argument, his brother telling him that he couldn’t stand to be around him--it didn’t really matter. The Reset would come eventually, and everything would be back to how it was. Papyrus would be cheerful and unburdened, Undyne and the others would be alive, and Sans would wake up in Snowdin like he always did, wondering how things were going to go this time. He wouldn’t remember this. He wouldn’t remember any of this. And then the same sequence of events would happen again, somewhere along the timelines. Sans would make all the same mistakes. They would end up right back here, maybe only one more time, maybe a thousand more times. It would all be exactly the same. Papyrus would check Undyne’s house, would confront Sans, and the truth would come out.

And Papyrus would tell him to leave.

It would happen again. It had probably happened before. So none of this, none of it really mattered, just like none of it ever mattered.

But that didn’t change anything. It didn’t stop Sans from feeling as if his soul was crumbling. It didn’t stop his chest from feeling like it was trying to collapse on itself, like his ribcage wanted to snap closed like teeth over his soul and snuff the damned thing out once and for all. Everything they’d been through, and everything through all possible timelines, and this was the moment he had pushed Papyrus too far. This was the moment Papyrus finally, after everything, gave up on him.

It hurt worse than anything in the world.

Sans took a step back. He didn’t say a word. Papyrus had told him to leave.

In the next moment, he was gone.

  
  
***  
  


 

 

Sans lay on his back in the Void, staring up at nothing, hands folded loosely across his chest. The memories came in a slow creep like usual.

A bad one. In some ways worse than the worst of them. An entirely selfish perspective, but that wasn’t surprising. Sans had never claimed to be anything other than a selfish bastard. And he could never be objective when Papyrus was involved.

Remembering it here would make it easier to remember it out in the real world. Better to try not to think about it at all. Fortunately, it was a skill that Sans had mastered over the years and the timelines.

He closed his eyesockets and let his mind empty. It was quiet. No Gaster, no crackle of static or footsteps to signal the demon. It was almost like being a sleep.

Eventually, a faint red glow filtered through Sans’s closed eyesockets and he became aware of a presence standing over him. He took a slow breath.

“Sorry, spooky. Not in a fighting mood today. If you wanna kill me, you might ’s well just get it over with.”

There was a long pause. Sans kept his eyesockets closed.

_ “Why have you come here again.” _

“Told you last time. I don’t really have a choice.” Sans made a quiet, thoughtful sound. “Used to show up here cause I was kinda…invited. Now, I dunno. Think I just end up here in between the Resets.”

_ “You realize that I do not believe anything you say, yes?” _

“Hn. Well, think of it this way. Why would a guy like me come here knowing some weird Void critter that hates me is waiting to kick my tailbone in?”

_ “You enjoy bothering people,”  _ they pointed out.  _ “You are also the type to punish yourself, rather than do anything productive to make things right.” _

“…Ouch. Yeah, that tracks. Still. I’m too lazy to actively come get my ass kicked.”

They didn’t answer right away. There was a shuffling sound, as if they had sat down nearby.

_ “Which ending have you come from, then?” _

That was interesting. They framed it as an “ending” as well. It seemed that Sans wasn’t the only one to think in those terms.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

_ “Typical.” _

“Yep. Why do you care?”

_ “I wish to confirm something.”  _ There was a smile in their voice when they continued.  _ “An upsetting one, I imagine. You are more subdued than normal.” _

“You say that as if you know me.”

_ “I have watched you for a long time.” _

“Huh. Couple weird things about that.” Sans kept his eyesockets closed and lazily shifted his fingers as he counted off. “One, you asked which one I just came from, which kinda implies that you don’t already know. Makes me wonder if you can see outta this place at all. Which, I figured last time that you must, since you knew all that stuff about the human and whatnot. And two, ‘s kinda weird that you’d want to watch  _ me.  _ ‘M not that interesting.”

_ “Always with the analysis. And you wonder why someone might despise you the way I do.” _

“Nah. Never wondered about that.” Sans stilled his hands again. “Yanno, it’s weird that we’re just kinda chatting here. You’re not gonna kill me this time?”

_ “I am still debating,”  _ they said sharply.  _ “I am a creature of slaughter, after all. But as I said, I am trying to confirm something first.” _

“See, that’s kinda weird too.”

_ “It is becoming less of a debate now.” _

“Just mean, I kinda feel like a being of…slaughter and pure evil or whatever wouldn’t need to actually  _ say  _ so.”

_ “Does analyzing and judging people  _ ever  _ get old for you?” _

“Eh. It’s how I survive.”

There was a momentary pause, as if the answer had caught them off guard.  _ “That is absurd.” _

Sans shrugged, which was a sort of awkward maneuver considering he was lying down. “Yeah, guess so.”

_ “You pick people apart until you find their weaknesses and then use those weaknesses against them. You seek out the slightest imperfection and dig into it. You pretend to be kind until it comes time to twist the knife. That is not survival. That is cruelty.” _

Sans’s eyesockets finally cracked open just a sliver. He peered up at the darkness above him, not looking at the scratched-out being seated nearby.

He wondered if Papyrus would agree. Or at least, this most recent version of Papyrus. Because Sans  _ had  _ been cruel to him, hadn’t he? What he had done--what he  _ hadn’t,  _ was cruel to the point of being inexcusable. Sans thought he knew that now.

There just wasn’t anything he could do about it. Not now, and not ever. How could he learn from a mistake he couldn’t remember?

_ “I understand why they are afraid of you,” _ the being went on, tone harsh and quiet.  _ “But I will never understand why they also like you.” _

Sans blinked slowly and frowned, confused.

“Who?” He thought about it for a moment. “The human?”

There was danger in the creature’s voice when they answered.  _ “You were not supposed to remember our conversation.” _

Sans was still frowning and still not looking at them. “A different timeline. The other…I can’t remember which one. I asked them…something. Something I hadn’t asked before. I went off-script. Why they…why they climbed the mountain. Right? I asked them. When…when did that happen? Or has it not happened yet?”

_ “It is a matter of perspective, I suppose,” _ they said, and the danger was suddenly gone from their voice. If anything, they sounded curious.  _ “That is part of what I am trying to confirm. So I will ask again. Which timeline have you come from this time, Sans?” _

Sans didn’t answer, gripping his hands a little tighter.

_ “One where your brother is dead? Is that why that smile of yours seems faker than usual?” _

“You sure do  _ act  _ like you know me,” Sans said dryly.

_ “It doesn’t take much observation to know that your brother is your entire world.”  _ There was a pause before the creature begrudgingly added,  _ “It is the one understandable thing about you.” _

Interesting. For someone that kept insisting they were basically evil incarnate, they seemed to be able to relate to the idea of attachment. Maybe even compassion. All that talk about the human last time, almost like…almost like it was spite on the human’s behalf.  _ Anger  _ on the human’s behalf.

He didn’t really care. But it was a better thing to think about than Papyrus right now.

_ “Was it the one where you move in with Toriel and lie to her about where Papyrus is? The one where Alphys becomes the Queen? The one where everyone dies and you finally do something useful, but much too late? The one where the dog takes over? That one is a classic.” _

All of those sounded familiar. Maybe it should have been comforting to know that he’d been right--that everything that could have happened really had happened. Everything that could have been done had already been done.

He didn’t really feel anything.

_ “No? Maybe your brother is alive, then?” _

“Maybe you should just tell me what you’re trying to confirm.”

_ “So you can lie more? I do not think so.” _

“I just wanna know what the hell you want from me.”

_ “Do you think the human wonders the same about you?” _

“What?” Sans’s eyelights finally slid over in their direction. They were sitting cross-legged a few feet away, still scratched-out and outlined in red, their placid smile the only thing visible.

“What does that mean?”

Their smile broadened.

_ “Ah. It is so rare to catch you off guard.” _ They chuckled softly.  _ “Do you think the human wonders what the hell you want from them?” _

Sans peered at them and shifted himself up onto his elbows so he could look at them better.

“I don’t want anything from them.”

_ “Bullshit.” _

“All I wanted was for them to be nice to my brother. That’s pretty much all I want from anyone.” Sans squinted at the figure beside him. “And maybe for them to not  _ kill  _ anyone. Sorry, is that too much to  _ ask?” _

_ “Do you have any idea how easy it is to kill a monster?” _

Sans rolled his eyelights. “Okay, edgelord, cool--”

_ “Monsters are made out of dust and dreams and good feelings,”  _ they snapped.  _ “Fragile little things, no matter how much HP they have. A child swinging around a  _ stick  _ could kill a monster. So did it never occur to you that it could happen  _ by accident?”

Sans hesitated, taking the moment to sit up the rest of the way. By accident. It reminded him of something--the human with the yellow soul. How frightened and angry she’d been. She’d said the first one was an accident. She’d said that she never wanted to kill anyone.

He’d told her that no one gets to LV 5 on accident. Hadn’t he said something similar to the anomaly once?

“Even if that were true,” he said slowly, “you can’t  _ accidentally  _ just…wipe out half a population. You can’t  _ accidentally  _ carve your way through Snowdin and then  _ intentionally  _ spare one guy.”

The creature seemed to brighten.

_ “Ah. So that’s the one. The one where Papyrus becomes king. Ah, yes, the one where you  _ lie  _ to him about where all of his friends and loved ones have gone.” _

Sans’s eyelights flickered and their smile broadened again.

_ “Does he ever figure it out?”  _ they asked eagerly.  _ “Do you ever tell him, or do you just let him keep thinking his friends all abandoned him?” _

Sans felt himself grin. He kicked out his legs and leaned back on his hands. “You know, I got a C+ in Psychology, but I’m kinda starting to think you’re just some fucked up part of my conscience or something.”

They pressed their hands to their cheeks in mock-delight.

_ “Why, Sans! That’s so predictably self-centered!” _

“Hey, you’re the one who keeps calling yourself a demon,” he said, gesturing at the Void itself. “And not to get too cerebral, but seeing as I’m dreaming this right now, this whole place is pretty  _ self-centered.  _ You never said you couldn’t be an  _ inner  _ demon, heh.”

_ “It is viscerally disgusting to me that you believe that I am here for you.” _

He grinned wider and lifted a hand, palm up.

“Aren’t you? You could be anywhere else in the Void right now, but you’re here, dragging me.”

They hesitated, their smile flickering a little.

_ “Perhaps I am simply bored.” _

“Fair. You’ve probably got a lotta time on your hands, being stuck in here. But you’ve now spent the last two Resets that I can remember  _ actively  _ coming to find me so you can tell me what a piece of shit I am.”

_ Like I don’t already know,  _ he didn’t say.

_ “Because someone should,” _ they said, in a tone like a child who had been caught in a lie.

“S’just not really productive,” he said airily, tilting his head back. “I get hating me, and I get ripping me a new one and all, but it’s not like I’m gonna remember it. And if I don’t remember it, I can’t change. Even if I want to. So there’s no…”

He trailed off, frowning upward into the darkness again as something occurred to him.

_ “Because I won’t let you just get away with it,”  _ they said, balling their hands into fists on their crossed knees, the scratch-outs skittering around them.  _ “Everyone else had a character arc. Everyone else admitted they had done wrong. You were the only one who didn’t, who got off scot-free. You judge everyone, and yet no one can judge you. Because you’re Sans. The guy who doesn’t tell anyone anything. If no one knows what you’ve done, no one can judge you for it. So even if it’s only in here,  _ someone  _ is going to judge you. And as you said. You will not change, not out where it matters. Even if you want to change, you won’t. Even if you remember something, I know better than to expect you to change.” _

Sans lowered his head and watched them from across the distance. They were right, of course. Pretty much everything they had ever said to him had been right. Somehow, whoever they were, they really did know him. All of his very worst parts.

It used to only really be Papyrus who could call Sans on his bullshit.

“That’s fair,” Sans said quietly. “But hold on.”

_ “Now what.” _

“I  _ did _ remember something,” he said, frown deepening. “The thing you told me. Why a child would climb a mountain. I remembered…enough to ask them, right?”

The creature’s head canted to the side just slightly but they said nothing.

“I don’t know when that was. Which timeline. But it…” Sans paused, staring at them for several long seconds. “It changed something. You changed something.”

Their hands flattened on their knees as they kept smiling, seeming to stare at him.

_ “You weren’t supposed to remember it.” _

“But you wanted me to,” Sans said, sitting up straighter, still staring right at them. “Last time. You said…on the off-chance that I might remember. Like you were hoping maybe I would. Why is that?”

_ “What is this? Some other dodge of yours?” _

“No, I’m…” Sans shook his head, trying to focus. “It’s always been a little easier for me to remember stuff that happens in here. And while I’m here, I can remember more. Never was sure why. Point is, there’s a chance that stuff you say to me here really will carry over back into the timelines. And it changed something. I’ve…”

His eyesockets widened. There it was. The crux of all of this. The reason why this was suddenly so, so important.

“I’ve never…changed anything before.”

They made a sound like a quiet snort.

_ “As if you ever tried.” _

He shook his head.

“Okay, but--look, just--just go with me here for a sec, yeah?” Sans pressed his hands together. “You don’t have to believe me about anything. I get it. I’m a liar. Everyone knows it. But this is important. Something  _ changed.  _ Something changed out in the real world, and that’s…I don’t think that’s ever happened before. Has it?”

They were quiet for what felt like a long time. Their mouth opened slightly as if they were going to answer, but then they closed it again. They seemed to be thinking.

_ “It has not,” _ they said finally, uncertainty in their voice.  _ “But it doesn’t matter. I have confirmed it now. You are out of sync. The you who is in here now, and the you who is out there--you are chronologically mixed up, Sans.” _

“Wait, what do you mean?” Sans leaned forward, eyesockets wide. “The me out there? Are you saying there’s a timeline--it’s happening  _ now?  _ But that doesn’t--I only come here between Resets. Or I thought…”

The creature snorted.  _ “The universe does not revolve around you.” _

“Perish the thought,” Sans said absently, folding his arms. “So, okay. That makes sense. I’m between timelines, but there’s another me that’s out there, in the middle of things. Or maybe it’s all happening concurrently…they’re not branching after all, they’re parallel…”

_ “This is interesting. I have never heard you ramble about something other than your brother before. You must be very keen to avoid thinking about what you have done to him.” _

“I--” Sans’s thoughts stumbled as he remembered the raw pain in Papyrus’s voice. “It’s just not helpful right now to--”

_ “Helpful? It’s not helpful to face the sort of pain you put your own brother through?” _

“You’re derailing. Listen--”

_ “How long does it last after the human leaves the Underground? It is something I have never been able to see. Days? Weeks? Months? How long does he spend believing what you told him? Did you tell yourself that you were simply trying to protect him? That every lie you tell him is for his protection?” _

Sans opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. There was no point. He  _ knew  _ all of this already, as much as he’d tried not to think about any of it. It was all the same across every possible timeline. All he ever did was lie to his brother, and he knew it. This most recent lie was just one of the worst of them.

He knew it all already. He didn’t need some random Void creature to remind him. They weren’t interested in a conversation, like they’d said. They were here to judge him. And that was all well and good, but right now, Sans just needed to  _ think. _

He dragged himself to his feet, then turned and started walking away.

_ “Where are you going?” _

Sans didn’t answer. He sat down a few yards away with his back to them and folded his hands in his lap.

_ “Goodness, how childish.” _

Sans sighed heavily and tried to ignore them, tried to push them and Papyrus out of his mind. It had been so long since he had actually tried to  _ think  _ about the timelines, about all the numbers, about the anomaly and the Resets and all of it. He had given up, because there hadn’t been much point in going over it all again and again and again.

But this was…new. Something had changed. He had  _ changed _ something, for once in his life. And it meant that there was some degree of communication, of data transference, across timelines. It reminded him of trying to leave notes for himself in his notebook, a thousand years ago when he had actually bothered. It was the same concept, except this time, it had  _ worked.  _ Some other version of himself had remembered something, and even without context, even without  _ meaning  _ to, he had changed something.

_ “What are you even doing, Sans? Are you trying to ignore me?” _

Technically, it wasn’t Sans at all. It was this…Void person who had set this whole thing off. What the hell were they, anyway? They cared about the human enough to get angry on their behalf. They knew Sans and Papyrus and monsters in general. They had seen multiple timelines, multiple “endings.” They were fully coherent in a way Gaster had never been. And also unlike Gaster, they could see details of the real world despite being stuck here in the Void. Not just details, but  _ chronology.  _ The lack of a time stream in the Void didn’t affect them the way it did Gaster.

What the hell  _ were  _ they?

_ “Typical Sans. Avoiding your problems, avoiding anyone who might point out your mistakes.” _

They certainly weren’t going to tell him, was the problem. They weren’t going to give him a single straight answer. He had no more reason to believe them than they had to believe him. But that didn’t necessarily mean that he couldn’t use them. If they were the instrument by which other Sans-es could remember things, then they were also the instrument by which the timelines could  _ change. _

And if the timelines could change, then--

No. That was too much like hope. This was just…experimentation. Testing. Figuring out what the limits were, seeing just how much could be altered. There was no guarantee that minor changes would be permanent, after all. Nor did it mean that the change would carry over between Resets.

He needed to test this.

“Hey, spooky.”

He didn’t look back at them, but he heard them sigh in exasperation.

_ “What.” _

“If the…version of me who’s on the outside right now could remember something else…what would you want it to be?”

_ “What?” _

Now he did turn back around, trying to meet where he thought their eyes would be.

“Like a message,” he said. “If you wanted to send him a message, or…I dunno. Deliver a message to the human? What would you want the message to be?”

_ “What is this?” _ they tilted their head again, voice full of suspicion.  _ “Some other trick?” _

“Be a pretty boring trick. I’m saying, if I can remember things, then maybe we can send a message. See what happens.”

_ “Why would such a thing interest me?” _

He shrugged. “You seem like you care about the human. Maybe there’s something you wanna say to ‘em?”

They grinned suddenly.  _ “Who says I need a shitty postal skeleton to talk to the human?” _

“Maybe you don’t. Like you keep saying, I don’t know anything about you or how you work. I just figure the fact that I can remember things out there seems like an opportunity.”

_ “Oh. I see.” _

Their grin widened. Sans watched as they slowly unfolded themselves and stood, dusting off their hands. Just as slowly, they started walking toward him. Sans held very still. They stopped only a few inches away, arms neatly folded behind their back, and smiled down at him. Sans stared right back.

_ “I get it,” _ they said.  _ “You were right, about how something changed. You had never bothered to ask the human why they climbed the mountain before. And yet this time, you did. You want to know if such a thing can be replicated. An experiment, if you will.” _

“Yeah,” Sans said, sweat trickling down the back of his neck. They were standing much too close.

_ “Very well, Sans. I will play.” _

They reached out very slowly, hands obscured by static and scratch-outs. Sans couldn’t help but tense, eyelights flicking to their hands as they reached for him. He braced himself, flinching as they gently laid their hands on the sides of his face. Their smile was a slash of darkness.

_ “You told your brother,”  _ they whispered,  _ “that all of his friends had abandoned him. When the truth was that they were dead.” _

“Wait.”

_ “You told him they were on vacation. Your brother, who only ever wanted to be popular. To have friends.” _

Sans tried to pull back and they tightened their grip like a vice.

_ “Because it was better to lie about such a thing than to tell him that all of them were dead. That he was inexplicably spared. That the little human who hugged him in the snow went on to kill Undyne, and Mettaton, and King Asgore, and all those monsters in between. Because all of them have to die for him to become king.” _

“Stop.”

Sans reached up to grab their hands and pry them off, but it was like trying to grab a fistful of sparks.

“I don’t want to remember this.”

_ “But I think you should, Sans. If you really want something to change, you should start by admitting to yourself what you have done to him. You LIED to him. All you ever do is LIE to him. He must have asked where Undyne went, where everyone went, and you LIED. And you never have to face consequences, because he believes you, or the Reset comes in time to save you. Not this time, Sans. If you remember anything, remember how you lied to him.” _

He had figured it out. He had gone to Undyne’s house and figured it out. He had asked Sans point blank, and Sans had still tried to lie.

And Papyrus had told him to go. Papyrus had finally, finally given up on him.

Sans let go and went limp in their hands, eyelights going distant. There was a dull roar from far away as the Void started to fade. He was going to wake up back in Snowdin. And he might remember this. He might have no choice but to remember.

They withdrew their hands and stepped back, smiling sweetly at him.

_ “One thing I learned from the Underground,”  _ they said as the world dissolved.  _ “Experimentation often has grave consequences.” _

  
  
***

 

Sans snapped awake to his brother’s voice, the same as always.

“SANS, WAKE UP ALREADY! THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAS MADE BREAKFAST AND IT IS GETTING COLD! HURRY UP, BROTHER! I HAVE A VERY GOOD FEELING ABOUT TODAY!”

Sans covered his face with his hands. He felt almost like crying. He had done something horrible, inexcusable.

He just couldn’t remember what it was.


	7. Better Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans's lies start to catch up with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: hospitals, memory loss, nightmares, unreality, referenced emotional abuse and neglect, institutionalization

In the dream, Sans was hiding. He was young, still too small for his age, small enough to fit into the gap beneath the stairs. It was a good hiding place, and his parents had only found him here once. They’d scolded him, telling him he’d get stuck under there one day, and then what?

The house was strange, a mishmash. The staircase was the one from the house he’d grown up in, but the living room he could see through the gap was the one from the old apartment in New Home. Past that was the kitchen from the Snowdin house. The floors warped and shifted, sometimes wood, sometimes carpet, sometimes bare concrete. The furniture in the living room flickered as well, swapping places now and then like some kind of hologram.

There were two people standing in the living room. Their forms were blurry and their faces were obscured by clouds of static, but he knew who they were. Two skeletons. One male, one female. They were arguing. They were always arguing, rarely raising their voices, but arguing all the same. He’d always wondered why they were together if they didn’t like each other very much.

He was eavesdropping. He knew they wouldn’t like that. It was probably fine. He didn’t really understand what they were talking about, anyway. He could only parse words and concepts in vague handfuls.

“I’m just saying.” His father’s voice was its usual slow, curling tone. He sounded tired. “It’s a solution. With him out of our hands, we could focus on Papyrus.”

“You are literally talking about sending our son away.” His mother’s arms were folded, her voice brisk and clipped. “Do you have any idea what that will look like to people?”

“People will understand.”

“No they  _ won’t.  _ There are almost no monsters in the Underground with problems like Sans.  _ No one _ understands this stuff! All people will see is a family sending their son to be locked up in, what, some home? Some clinic for old monsters with no family?”

His father heaved an exasperated sigh. “Listen, I’m tired. You’re tired. Everyone will be better off if Sans is somewhere  _ else.  _ Sans included. I thought Papyrus was the whole point, anyway?  _ You  _ were the one who wanted a second kid.”

Sans fiddled with a loose thread on the end of his pajama sleeve, twisting it into knots and staying very quiet. He hugged the little red, plush starfish in his arms tighter. There were so many other things they were saying, things that were blurred by the dream or by faulty memory.

“I wanted a  _ normal _ kid.”

“And now we’ve got one! He’ll grow up healthy and strong, and he’ll have plenty of kids of his own, and skeletons will survive a little longer.” His father threw up his arms. “Sans won’t even make it to ten. He’ll never have kids. He’s a wasted effort. So what’s the point?”

His mother gave a bitter laugh. “You’re still not listening. What do we tell Sans’s classmates, his teachers? The neighbors? What would we tell  _ Papyrus  _ when he’s old enough to ask? We’ll be the parents who  _ abandoned  _ their child. Worse, we’ll be the parents who abandoned their  _ sick  _ child.”

His father made another exasperated sound. “You care too much about what other people think.”

“You should try it sometime.”

“Will you at least let me look into it?”

“Do whatever you want.”

“Fine.”

Sans could feel his soul thudding as he poked his head out of the gap.

“Mom? Dad? Am I going away?”

The staircase disappeared behind him, and all the furniture in the living room vanished. The two of them turned to him, and suddenly they were impossibly tall, towering over him.

“Everyone would be better off,” his mother said.

“You’re more broken than I thought,” his father said.

“You just keep getting worse.”

“Do you even know where you are? Where you’re going?”

The living room stretched into long hallways and streets and paths. All unfamiliar, all strange and twisting. Sans dropped his toy starfish and pressed his hands to the sides of his head.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, starting to shiver. “My head just feels funny. That’s all. I’ll be okay in a minute.”

There was another Sans nearby, grown up, watching with empty eyesockets.

“Come on, you know better,” he said. “You were never gonna be okay. And now you’re  _ crazy _ on top of everything else.”

Sans whimpered. “I just--I just need to figure this out.”

His mother shook her head. “You’re such a disappointment.”

His father sighed like he always did. “Such a disappointment.”

“But I live here.” Sans couldn’t even see the static hiding their faces anymore, they were so tall. “Don’t I live here? Why am I here if you didn’t want me?

“SANS?”

Papyrus’s voice came booming from behind him. Sans turned. Papyrus was an adult now, and a thousand feet tall, staring down at Sans in disappointment. For some reason, he was wearing a crown.

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU NOW? WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING? WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO LOOK AFTER YOU?”

“I-I’m sorry, bro,” Sans said, shivering harder and shrinking beneath their cold stares. “I’m just lost. Let me come find you.”

“I DON’T WANT YOU TO FIND ME, SANS!” Papyrus stamped a foot. “I DON’T WANT YOU AROUND! YOU LIED TO ME!”

There was another figure behind him now, just as tall, a jagged zigzag of bright red and jittering black. It was smiling.

_ “You LIED to him,”  _ it said, and its voice sounded like all four of their voices speaking together.  _ “If you remember anything, remember how you lied to him.” _

Sans crumpled to his knees, hugging himself.

“Everyone is better off without you.”

Sans snapped awake, jolting in place. The only sound he made was a quiet gasp. He was soaked in sweat and shivering, having kicked his sheets off sometime in his sleep. He was freezing cold. For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was. All the furniture in his room was out of place. The window was in the wrong spot.

Sans squeezed his eyesockets shut and dug the heels of his hands against them. His soul was vibrating with leftover panic from the nightmare. He hadn’t dreamt about his parents in awhile. Not since Mrs. Drake had Fallen Down. How long ago was that? A few months? It felt like a year, maybe more.

He was fine. It was fine. Just a nightmare. He dragged his hands away from his face and sat up enough to look out the window. Snow. Back in Snowdin, like usual. Maybe there had been a Reset in the night and that had set off his anxiety. It didn’t matter. With any luck, he’d forget the nightmare completely over the course of the day.

He could probably just go back to sleep. He hadn’t actually left the house in…days. A few days, it felt like. By now, he had probably lost all of his jobs, even the hotdog gig. It was strange that no one had called him yet, and that Papyrus wasn’t on his case, or Undyne. No one seemed to care that he wasn’t working, Sans least of all. He didn’t mind the idea of just enjoying unemployment until the next Reset. Though he wondered if Grillby or the Grillby regulars had been asking about him. No one had so much as sent him a text message.

He was still shivering, though. He grimaced and pulled up one of his blankets to wrap the whole thing around himself. It was much too cold in the house. Temperatures weren’t that big a deal up to a point, but it was still pretty uncomfortable. Papyrus liked to keep things a bit cozy, in case of guests, he always said. Had he just not turned the heat on?

Sans sighed quietly. He was too awake now, and if he tried to sleep again, he might just sink into another nightmare. Plus he was hungry. He dragged himself off the bed, pulling the blanket with him. Then he stepped over to the window, just to double-check. Snowdin, definitely still Snowdin. Sans pulled the blanket tighter around himself and left his room.

The rest of the house still looked strange, with furniture in the wrong places, the wrong carpet, the wrong layout. He was starting to get used to it, and it usually only threw him off when he was very tired. There were boxes here and there in the living room and in the study. Sans kept trying to rationalize it that they’d simply moved to a different house in Snowdin. Maybe something had happened to the old one. Maybe it had burned down? It had probably happened at least once.

This was such a strange timeline.

“Hey, bro?” Sans called from the top of the stairs.

No answer, and no telltale sound of his brother. Papyrus was gone more often than not these days. Sans was starting to think that maybe Papyrus had finally been let into the Royal Guard, but it wasn’t like he could ask. It was something he should already know.

He headed down the stairs and made his way to the kitchen, the last of his shivers fading. It was going to be another lonely day of doing nothing by himself, it seemed. He should probably start thinking about trying to get a hobby other than sleeping, one that didn’t require going outdoors. But what would be the point? This was all going to Reset sooner or later.

Sans poured himself a bowl of cereal and brought it back into the living room, setting it on an endtable. Then he started looking around for the thermostat. Like everything else, it had moved as well. Eventually he found it on completely the wrong wall, but its entire makeup had changed. There was a digital display now and everything. Sans prodded at a few buttons and succeeded in changing the language to Spanish.

“I was a physicist once upon a time,” he muttered as he tried to change it back. “I almost had a PhD.”

After a few minutes of fiddling with it and almost turning on the air conditioner, he gave up. He had a blanket. It would be fine. He needed to just eat and watch something funny on TV, something that didn’t involve parents or mental breakdowns. At least the couch was the same. It was in a different spot, but it was the same shitty, lumpy, vaguely uncomfortable horror they’d had for over a decade. He curled up in his usual corner, bundled in the blanket, and switched on the TV.

It was becoming a familiar routine--which in some senses was kind of nice, because Sans was starved for any familiarity. He’d camp out on the couch for hours, watching daytime television and barely paying attention, except to occasionally wonder why they were getting so many human channels lately. Papyrus sometimes came home in the afternoon, and then Sans would eat lunch. If Papyrus didn’t show up, Sans forgot to eat until dinnertime and his bones started constricting in the way that meant he was very hungry. Sometimes he would step outside, just down the front steps, to see if those weird birds were still around. He’d toss them a few bits of bread, then return to the safety and vague familiarity of the house.

Sometimes Papyrus didn’t come home at all, and when that happened, Sans usually just fell asleep on the couch and slept until hunger woke him up again.

He wasn’t sure how long this had been going on. A few days, at least. Frisk hadn’t come by since that one disastrous breakfast, and no one else ever came calling. Everyone was busy. He could remember that much. Frankly, it was probably a good thing that no one was bothering to look for him, and that Papyrus was gone more often than not. Papyrus had been looking at him funny for a little while now, and sooner or later he was going to figure it out, and all of Sans’s lies were going to come apart. He kept slipping up about basic things, things he should know but could never remember. Papyrus being out of the house meant he couldn’t look too closely. All Sans was really doing at this point was borrowing time.

It wasn’t going to last forever. Nothing did. If Frisk was feeling kind, they’d Reset quickly afterward. Sans didn’t want to keep living in a world where Papyrus had given up on him.

Evening rolled around. The house stayed freezing cold, and Papyrus didn’t show up. Maybe he had picked up some of Sans’s shifts to compensate. Didn’t matter. Sans ate cold ravioli out of a can and kept the TV going. There was no point in doing anything else.

Sans didn’t even bother going to his room to sleep. He just curled into a tighter ball in the corner of the couch to try and conserve heat and passed out. Fortunately, his dreams this time were hazy and muddled, nothing more than vague shapes and a sense of discomfort. He awoke when he felt a hand shake his shoulder. He blinked and saw Papyrus standing over him, pulling his hand back and looking confused.

“Mnnf,” Sans said, rubbing at his eyesockets. He was surprised to find that he was shivering again. “Hey, bro. Time’s it?”

“About three in the morning,” Papyrus said, still watching Sans with a mix of confusion and concern. “You didn’t hear me come in? Or call for you?”

“I was asleep.” Sans pulled the blanket tighter. Why was he so cold?

“Usually you are VERY good at waking up when you hear me. Usually you PRETEND to be asleep, but you weren’t this time!” Papyrus’s frown deepened. “And why are you shivering? Did you have a nightmare?”

“I don’t think so…”

Papyrus reached out and pressed the back of his knuckles to Sans’s forehead. His eyesockets widened.

“You are freezing! I THOUGHT it felt cold in here!”

“Oh.” Right. Thermostat. Sans shrugged. “Eh, well. We’re skeletons.”

“SANS, THAT DOESN’T MEAN IT’S HEALTHY FOR US TO SIT AROUND IN THE COLD ALL THE TIME! OR SLEEP IN IT, FOR THAT MATTER! Why hasn’t the heat come on?”

“I couldn’t figure out the thermostat,” Sans said, only somewhat bitter.

Papyrus squinted at him and then walked over to the unit on the wall.

“You turned it OFF?”

“Oh, oops. That might explain some things,” Sans said, stretching.

“I KNOW I’ve told you how it works, Sans!” Papyrus said, irritated now. “MAYBE EVEN TWICE.”

He probably had. Once, twice, a thousand times--Sans was starting to wonder if it even mattered anymore. He sighed to himself.

“Ah well,” he said airily, watching as Papyrus fiddled with the thermostat. “Guess I’m officially old if I can’t work a thermostat, heh. Better for our power bill.”

A moment later, Sans heard the heat click on. Even  _ that  _ sounded different.

“There, that’s better,” Papyrus said, putting his hands on his hips and turning back to Sans. “Honestly, Sans, if you forgot how to turn it on, why didn’t you just call me and ask?”

Sans yawned and dragged himself to his feet. Between the shivering and the tightness of hunger in his bones, he felt even weaker than normal, swaying a little.

“Didn’t wanna bother you,” he said, wobbling toward the stairs with his blanket trailing behind him. “I’m goin’ to bed for real.”

Papyrus’s frown had only deepened. “Are you feeling alright?”

“‘Course,” Sans said as he passed. “Just tired.”

Papyrus looked torn between wanting to chide Sans for his assorted Sans-like behaviors, and actual concern.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.” Sans looked at the staircase and sighed. “Man, we shoulda moved into a one-floor house.”

“YOU approved the floorplan right alongside me! Probably because you have your WEIRD SHORTCUTS!”

“Yeah. Trying to cut back.”

Sans raised a foot to start climbing the stairs and nearly fell over backwards. He caught the banister before he could and lost his blanket in the process. He got his feet back under him before he could stumble further, but now for some reason his vision was swimming.

“Sans, be careful!”

“Sorry.”

“Oh my GOD. Are you DRUNK?”

“No?” Had he been to Grillby’s lately? No. No, he hadn’t even left the house in…in days now, right? He could remember that much.

“I KNEW IT!” Papyrus said, in a tone like he had just confirmed all of his suspicions. “AS SOON AS I HEARD THAT GRILLBY WAS SERVING ALCOHOL AGAIN, I KNEW IT! NO WONDER YOU’RE ACTING SO STRANGE!”

“I’m not--”

“DON’T LIE TO ME!”

It was just normal annoyance and exasperation in Papyrus’s voice, but it made Sans flinch all the same.  _ Remember that you lied to him. _

About what? Aside from  _ everything. _ Sans had lied to Papyrus about  _ everything,  _ but there was something specific, something he was supposed to remember.

Something about vacations.

Sans’s vision swam again as he was bombarded with a sudden memory, this one hazy with time instead of timelines. Three or four days after their parents had left. Sans had suspected it all that time, but had been holding onto…not hope, really, but some vaguely scientific need to rule out confirmation bias. Three or four days with not even a phone call, and it had felt like time to tell Papyrus what he had known all along.

_ I don’t think they’re coming home, bro. _

Papyrus had denied it. He’d had so much faith in them, faith they had never earned.

_ They’ll come home! They’re just on vacation! They went on vacation and forgot to tell us! _

Sans had let him believe it, and keep on believing it as the food began to run out and the power stopped working.

Vacation. It had become like a code word. Maybe that was when it had all started, when they had started talking around things, never calling things what they were, holding to an unspoken agreement to never face the bad stuff. It had grown and grown until it encompassed everything, every inch of their lives.

Papyrus was yelling something, but he sounded far away and underwater. Sans’s head was spinning. He tried to focus, tried to dislodge the memory as well as whatever Papyrus was yelling about. What had he been doing? He was standing in front of a flight of stairs. Clearly he needed to go up. He gripped the banister tighter and pulled himself up, one step, then a second. He tried to tune in to whatever Papyrus was saying. It was hard to hear. There was a ringing sound coming from somewhere. Everything was cold, but for some reason, he was sweating.

“--and HONESTLY, I CANNOT BE EXPECTED TO LOOK AFTER YOU FOR EVERY LITTLE THING LIKE A BABYSITTER! IT’S DIFFERENT NOW, SANS, I HAVE SO MANY OTHER RESPONSIBILITIES--”

“I know,” Sans said, though he couldn’t tell if Papyrus could even hear him. “I lie about everything. They were right. Everyone would be better off if--”

Sans took another step and felt the world go out from under him. Everything went black.

  
  
  


 

Sans woke up somewhere wrong. The bed was wrong, some kind of uncomfortable cot with sheets that weren’t threadbare. The walls were wrong, a shade of pale yellow, and everything smelled like fresh herbs and lemons. There were some horribly familiar machines nearby, as well as a table with some faintly-glowing crystals. Those were familiar as well, the kind of magic used to track a monster’s health and other vitals.

Hospital. He was in a hospital.

Sans’s eyesockets widened and he tried to sit up. No. No, he couldn’t be here. He’d told himself that he’d never end up in a place like this again. What the hell had happened?

“Sans?”

Sans jerked, turning to find the source of the voice. The motion made his head swim and his vision go blurry for a moment. When it cleared, he saw Papyrus sitting in a chair next to Sans’s cot. Papyrus stood when he saw Sans was awake, expression haunted.

“Bro--”

Papyrus wrapped his arms around Sans before Sans could get another word out. He hugged him tightly. Sans could feel him trembling.

“You’re awake,” Papyrus said in a near-whisper. “Thank god you’re awake.”

“What h…” He wasn’t supposed to ask questions, but he couldn’t remember why. He felt scattered and confused. Nothing made sense. He’d been…he’d been at home, and Papyrus had been yelling at him for something, and then…nothing. He could feel Papyrus Checking him. Something had gone wrong. 

“You collapsed,” Papyrus said, and now his voice was shaking as well. “I thought--at first I thought…”

Stairs. He’d been trying to climb the stairs.

It had been stairs the first time as well.

“I--” Sans was pretty sure he was panicking. “You mean I--it happened again?”

“No,” Papyrus said, clutching Sans tighter. “No, no, you didn’t Fall. You didn’t Fall, Sans. I thought you had, but you’d just--collapsed. You’re alright now. Sans, you need to breathe.”

“Okay.” Sans tried to breathe. He hadn’t Fallen. Just--regular fallen. Which didn’t make sense either, because he was always so  _ careful.  _ He was always careful, but he’d been under the weather for some reason, weak and shaky.

“Okay.” Inhale. Exhale. Get a hold of yourself. Figure this out. Stop freaking him out.

“Sorry for--spooking you,” he said, desperately trying to keep the shake out of his voice. “Hope you didn’t  _ boo  _ hoo over me.”

Papyrus made a sound that was halfway between a snort and a groan.

“Where, uh.” Sans paused. Now that he was calming back down, he could remember why he wasn’t supposed to ask questions. But surely that didn’t count when he woke up in the freaking hospital. Surely some questions were expected. “Where am I?”

“Dr. Simurgh’s clinic,” Papyrus said, slowly pulling back enough so that he could sit back down. He kept one hand on Sans’s arm, holding on like he was afraid Sans might float away.

Sans didn’t recognize the name. He tried to think, but his mind felt so sluggish. Was this just a clinic, or was it a proper hospital? Sans knew all the healers at the clinic in Snowdin. Had Papyrus taken him all the way to New Home? He might have, if he really thought Sans had Fallen Down.

“How long?”

“You’ve been out for…almost eight hours? It’s late morning.”

Less than a day. That wasn’t terrible. That could be salvaged, could be passed off as Sans just being Sans if he played his cards right. If he could get them to release him quickly, get ahead of the rumor mill… 

“Do they know why I, uh, collapsed?”

Sans finally looked at Papyrus’s face and then immediately looked away, staring at the end of his hospital bed instead. His brother looked stricken, and utterly exhausted. He clearly hadn’t slept. He’d likely been sitting at Sans’s side all night.

“She said your magic spares were low,” Papyrus said, his voice thin. “Something about your soul having to overcompensate, and magical intake, and--and actually, I had better go let her know that you’re awake.”

Papyrus stood and slowly released Sans’s arm. He managed to smile a little.

“And, I can let the others know you’re awake as well! Everyone was very worried.”

“Everyone?” Oh god. Who had Papyrus told? “Wait, are they  _ here?” _

“Toriel and Frisk are here!” Papyrus was already heading for the door. “I think Undyne might still be here as well! I’ll go get them. They will DEFINITELY want to see you!”

“Wait, I don’t--bro, wait--” They were going to  _ see him.  _ They were all going to see him  _ like this, _ weak in a hospital bed, and that thin veneer of normalcy would be gone. There was a difference between knowing about his HP and actually  _ seeing  _ it. He’d suddenly be the pathetic weakling who couldn’t even climb a goddamn flight of stairs. If all of Snowdin didn’t know already, they would soon enough. There would be rumors and pity and those  _ looks  _ that people got, and then there would be questions, and eventually he would slip up, and everyone would know that Sans wasn’t just weak and broken, he was also  _ crazy. _

“Papyrus, wait.”

His voice came out too loud. Papyrus stopped with his hand on the doorknob, looking back at Sans in startled confusion. Sans forced himself to grin as carelessly as he could.

“Just, uh.” Sans twisted his hands in the bed sheet to keep them from trembling. “I don’t wanna freak anyone out, yanno? Seriously, uh, heh, just let me talk to the doctor person first, and uh, get dressed or something. Nothing more horrifying than a dumpy skeleton in a hospital gown, yanno? You…you know how people get.”

Papyrus frowned at him. “Sans, they’re all just worried about--oh.” He trailed off, looking Sans over. 

Of course he understood. He’d seen it all as well.

“Alright,” he said at length, nodding. “Doctor first.”

Sans smiled for real, relief almost making him crumple back against the cot again. “Thanks, bro.”

“I shall be right back!”

Papyrus left, closing the door gently behind him. Sans covered his face with both hands and slowly dragged them downward, bone scraping against bone. He still felt faint and dizzy, but if he played this right, he would be back on his feet before he had to face any of the others. How the hell had he collapsed, anyway? Just from the cold? It couldn’t be exhaustion; he’d been sleeping for something like fourteen hours a day.

Sans scooted back against the head of the cot so he could sit up properly. It was fine. He could get ahead of this, figure out what he needed from the doctor and then go home and not let this happen again. Snowdin would make up whatever rumors it wanted, but rumors faded over time. Sans would just need to show his face around town, make more jokes than usual, act normal. Tease anyone who had worried about him. It would be fine.

He’d need to leave the house, though. Maybe he could get a better idea of the town’s layout on the way home. That might be another problem on its own. It was always harder to get out of a hospital than it was to get in one. It would depend entirely on what the doctor was like, and just how curious they were about Sans’s horrifically low HP.

Papyrus returned a minute later with a monster Sans didn’t recognize in tow. She looked like a bipedal wolf, with brilliantly-colored wings instead of arms. She had the no-nonsense look of someone who had been in the healing business for a long time, though she smiled faintly when she saw Sans.

“Hello, Sans,” she said, holding a tablet under one wing. “Glad to see you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Heya, doc,” Sans said, as brightly as he could. “Feelin’ great.”

Papyrus took up his position at Sans’s bedside, while Dr. Simurgh hovered near the foot of the cot, tapping away on the tablet with a wingtip.

“Good to hear,” she said, sounding like she didn’t believe it. “Your brother told you what happened?”

“Just that I passed out. Always knew I could sleep standing up.”

“Hm. Your HP was unaffected, thankfully, but your magic reserves have dropped significantly. Which is interesting, seeing as you seem to have a lot more magic than your soul’s capacity would suggest. You must not have been replenishing it fast enough. Have you been skipping meals?”

“Uh.” Sans pointedly didn’t look at Papyrus, but the hesitation was probably damning enough. “No? I mean, maybe one or two…”

Dr. Simurgh made a note on her tablet. “Human food or monster food?”

“Oh.” Sans rubbed the back of his head, feeling more like an idiot with every passing second. Human food was harder to digest than magic food, especially for a skeleton, and there had been no magic food in the house. This was all starting to make sense. “I, uh, I dunno.”

“You need to get your magical intake back up,” Dr. Simurgh said, with a stern glance at him. “And in your condition, it would be wise to stop skipping meals at all. Considering the depletion to your magic, this must have been going on for at least a week, probably more.”

“Okay. Noted. Heh, any excuse to eat more Grillby’s. So, uh, that’s why I passed out?”

“Your soul had to overcompensate by pulling magic from elsewhere,” she explained. “In this case, from your DEF. It had dropped to 0. Your brother tells me it’s normally only 1?”

“Y-Yeah…” Zero Defense. If Sans had so much as knocked his head on the banister on the way down, he’d be dead. No Falling, just straight to dust.

Dr. Simurgh gave him a pointed look and Sans felt her Check him.

“Seems it’s still hovering at 0,” she said, tucking the tablet back under her wing. “We’ll get some more magic in you, get you back up to 1, then you can go on home. Shouldn’t be more than a few hours.”

“Can’t I just…get a burger or something and head out?”

“If you want to potentially suffer the embarrassment of death by stubbed toe,” Dr. Simurgh said dryly. Sans looked away.

“Right, fine.”

“But he’ll be okay?” Papyrus asked, strangely quiet.

“He’ll be just fine,” Dr. Simurgh said with another faint smile. “Just so long as he keeps his magic intake at a healthy level. I’ll be back in a bit with some food. Papyrus, you’re welcome to stay with him until I’ve given him the all clear.”

“Thank you very much, Dr. Simurgh,” Papyrus said, sitting back down in his chair.

“Yeah, thank you.”

Dr. Simurgh nodded and left. Sans heaved a sigh and folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyesockets.

“Damn. Well, at least I’m not stuck here the whole day. Still kind of annoying. I’m gonna miss some of my shows.”

“Sans…was she right?”

Sans kept his eyesockets closed. “About what?”

“That you’ve been skipping meals.”

He could still salvage this. It was fine. “Not really? Like, just…I dunno, a few times.”

“Since when do you skip meals?” Papyrus said, and Sans could feel him staring. “I thought you said you were still going to Grillby’s every day?”

“Of course I am. I dunno, maybe it was just…also the heat being off on top of it. Either way, lesson learned. It won’t happen again.”

“It shouldn’t have happened even ONCE!” Papyrus said, concerned agitation in his voice. “You are usually so careful! Sans, what has been going ON with you lately?”

“Nothing, bro, don’t--”

“Acting strange, forgetting things, saying odd things…she said this must have been going on for WEEKS! Is--is it because I’m working so much lately? Have I just not NOTICED?”

“What, come on, bro, that’s not it.” Sans finally opened his eyesockets and sat upright, frowning at his brother, cold panic starting to curl in his soul. “Look, it’s not a big deal. We just had a scare, that’s all. I’ll be more careful from now on, okay? I won’t let this happen again.”

Papyrus was twisting his hands together, worrying at his gloves.

“I know we don’t see each other as much as we used to. Maybe if…I cut back a little…”

“No way. Don’t you dare.” Sans leaned toward him. “You’re happy, Papyrus. You’re happiest when you’re busy.”

Papyrus gave him a plaintive look. “But that doesn’t mean I should be neglecting you!”

“You haven’t been.” Sans shook his head, even though it made him dizzy. “I swear you haven’t, Paps. Listen, I get it, I know things have--changed. Like you were saying before, you have all these new responsibilities, you can’t…you can’t be expected to…babysit me all the time.”

“You remember that?” Papyrus hung his head. “Sans, I am sorry about that. I shouldn’t have assumed you were drunk. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“No, it’s okay, bro. Hey.” Sans reached out and caught hold of Papyrus’s wrist. He tugged a little to get Papyrus to pry his hands apart. “Come on. Not like it’d be the first time I got shitfaced, yeah?”

Papyrus managed a bit of a snort.

“That is true. But I shouldn’t…have said that thing about babysitting, either. I don’t think of it that way, Sans. I really don’t.”

“I know. I know you don’t. So we’re okay. You don’t have to…” Sans paused, glancing away. “I don’t want you to hold yourself back cause of me. I hate responsibility, but--I also don’t want anyone to be responsible  _ for  _ me. Yanno?”

Papyrus sighed heavily and turned his wrist over, idly patting the back of Sans’s hand.

“I do know, brother.” All at once, Papyrus sounded as tired as he looked. “You hate when people worry about you.”

“Yeah. Heh.” Sans was quiet for a moment, watching Papyrus’s thumb rub against his hand. “I’m…I really am sorry I scared you.”

Papyrus shook his head. “I am just glad it wasn’t worse.”

“Yeah. Same.”

There was a silence.

“Is it alright if I let Frisk and Toriel and Undyne come see you now?”

“Yeah, I guess.” It wasn’t like he could avoid it forever. And so far damage control was working, even if it was exhausting. “Just tell ‘em I’m alright beforehand.”

“Yes, yes.” Papyrus sighed again, more exasperated this time.

“And hey, you know you don’t have to stick around here till they let me out, right? I mean, you’ve been here for what, like eight hours? You’ve probably gotta get back to work.”

Papyrus frowned. “I don’t think Toriel will mind if I take ONE day off.”

Toriel? Was he working for Toriel, not Undyne? That didn’t make any sense. Sans shrugged.

“Alright, well. Just mean you don’t have to wait here the whole time for me. I can get back home on my own. It’s gonna be super boring anyway.”

Papyrus squinted at him. “Do you even know where the clinic is in relation to our house?”

So it had to be somewhere far away, and somewhere less familiar. Had to be either Hotland or New Home. Sans waved a dismissive hand.

“Eh, I’ll figure it out. I’ll just take the ferry.”

“What?”

“The stop’s pretty much always in walking distance.” He could probably also ask the Riverperson for directions. The Riverperson certainly wouldn’t judge, or even wonder why.

“Sans, I don’t--” Papyrus was staring at him like he was sprouting a second head. “I don’t understand. Is this some kind of--VERY SURREAL joke?”

“Uh.” He must have said something wrong. If the whole Underground had been rearranged, then the river would have moved as well. Maybe there was no longer a ferry stop in Snowdin at all.

He shook his head as if it didn’t matter. “Point being, I can find my way home.”

Papyrus was still staring at him, like something was slowly dawning on him.

“Sans…where do you think you are right now?”

“Uh, heh. Stuck in a hospital bed, last I checked.”

“You know what I mean. Where do you think you are?”

Sans stared back at him.

It was fine. It was fine, he’d already made it obvious that he didn’t know which zone the clinic was in. He couldn’t be expected to. It wasn’t like he had an encyclopedic knowledge of clinic locations.

“Uh, I dunno,” he admitted. “New Home I figure?”

Papyrus’s eyesockets widened. Sans felt sweat starting to form on his skull.

“Hotland, maybe? Does it matter?”

There was a look on Papyrus’s face that Sans had never seen there in his entire life. A mix of horrified concern and fear. The sort of look he’d gotten from kids and teachers and doctors growing up, but never from Papyrus.

Never from Papyrus.

“Why are you looking at me like that…?”

“Sans, we’re…” Even his  _ voice  _ was wrong, horrified, frightened, strained, too soft. “We’re not underground. We’re--on the Surface.”

The Surface. No, that was impossible. They never got to the Surface. Not in this timeline. There had been snow on the ground.

But there had also been--the wrong streets, and the wrong buildings, and construction. Too many trees. Too much light. The crows in the yard that he kept feeding. Sans knew Frisk’s name. He knew Toriel’s name.

Suddenly it was the only thing that made sense.

“I--haha.” Too late. Much too late, but Sans tried anyway. “Gotcha, bro. Come on, don’t you know a joke when you hear it?”

Papyrus pulled back, letting go, like Sans was too damaged to touch. He covered his mouth with a hand, still watching Sans with that  _ look. _

“This is why you’ve been…this whole time…”

“Paps, it was a  _ joke.  _ I was just kidding, come on--”

Papyrus stood up so fast he almost knocked the chair over.

“I-I need--I need to go get Dr. Simurgh.”

“No, wait.” Sans tried to slide to the edge of the cot to get up, but his bones felt like lead weights. Papyrus was already heading for the door. “Papyrus,  _ wait.” _

He was gone, the door swinging shut behind him. Sans was alone.

  
  
  
***

 

 

There were questions. It felt like thousands of questions, both from Dr. Simurgh and from Papyrus. Sans made himself as difficult for them as he could, beating around the bush, not making eye contact, joking, giving non-answers, staying silent. Nothing worked. Even with his stonewalling, they managed to piece together what he knew and what he had forgotten. Sans tried to pay close attention, repeating things to himself in his head, trying desperately not to let it all slip away.

They were on the Surface. They’d been on the Surface for over three months. The town was called Outside, and it had started as little more than an encampment. Now it was a proper town, though it was still under construction. Magic meant that monsters could build a lot faster than even the humans who had been helping them. Humans were everywhere, and Sans even knew a few of them personally. Most of them were kind and helpful. Some of them weren’t. Some of them had been protesting the return of monsterkind. Frisk was acting as an ambassador, while Toriel, Asgore and Papyrus did what they could to assist. Former guards like Undyne had formed a sort of militia to make sure the town stayed safe, but incidents with the anti-monster humans had becoming increasingly more common. Meanwhile, Dr. Alphys--who had been fired from the position of Royal Scientist, but was still doing engineering work for the town--had finally gotten the power situation sorted out, and was working on the finishing touches of a monster internet network.

It had snowed about a week ago. Sans finally confessed that he probably hadn’t left the house in that entire time. He’d been eating poorly before that, and the past week he’d been subsisting on little more than toast and canned goods. Papyrus hadn’t even had time to make spaghetti, like usual.

It all made sense.

The more Papyrus and the doctor picked him apart, the more Sans noticed. There were things he hadn’t even realized that he’d forgotten. Dr. Simurgh had asked some control questions, basic things that Sans should have been able to answer. What year is it. How old are you. Sans couldn’t answer either of them. He could remember the date of his birthday, but not the year. Sans didn’t say a word about timelines or Resets, but with that considered, it made a horrifying amount of sense. His birthday was in summer, and the timeline had been stuck somewhere in autumn for…well, it didn’t matter. He literally couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a birthday.

Papyrus had looked like he was going to be sick.

“If it’s amnesia, it’s oddly selective,” Dr. Simurgh said once they had finished grilling him. She was almost excited, in that way that science-types got when presented with a mystery. Sans ignored her. He picked at the tasteless magic food they’d brought him and didn’t look at either of them.

“There’s characteristics of anterograde amnesia, but it’s imperfect,” she said, speaking to Papyrus instead of Sans. “There’s also characteristics of short-term memory loss, but there’s not enough to make a diagnosis for either.”

“What do those mean?” Papyrus asked.

“Anterograde amnesia is an inability to form new memories. Short-term memory loss is the loss of recent memories, as opposed to older ones. I’ll be honest, I’ve never seen anything like this with a monster. This sort of thing is much, much more common with humans, where you have a brain that can become sick or damaged.”

“So, what could…what could cause something like this?” Papyrus was wringing his hands again, and had been this whole time. Sans had tried to stop him once and had since given up.

“Hmm. With monsters, there’s a couple different things. Damage to the body or to the magic, alcohol use, trauma…”

“Trauma…?”

“It might be as simple as an inability to adjust to the Surface world,” Dr. Simurgh offered. “I’ve seen a lot of monsters these past few months with all kinds of new concerns and issues with Surface life. Some of them have even returned to the Underground. It’s a massive life change. It makes sense that the transition wouldn’t be smooth for everyone.”

“And how do we--” Papyrus paused, and Sans could feel him looking at him, trying to catch Sans’s eye. Sans didn’t look up. “How do we handle this? How do we fix it?”

Dr. Simurgh was quiet for a moment, and Sans could feel her looking at him too.

“I’d like to keep him overnight for monitoring and some more tests.”

“Yeah, not happening,” Sans said, speaking up for the first time in about a half an hour.

“Sans--”

“As soon as my DEF is back up, I’m out,” Sans said, finally looking up so he could stare Dr. Simurgh right in the eye. “That was the agreement.”

“That’s your choice,” Dr. Simurgh said, meeting his gaze and looking unimpressed. “You seem like the type to try to climb out the window otherwise.”

Sans didn’t answer. He could feel his brother glaring at him.

“Sans, there’s no need to be so uncooperative,” he said. “We are simply trying to figure this out.”

“In any case,” Dr. Simurgh went on, “the options depend on the severity. He’ll need someone to keep an eye on him either way. From the looks of things, this has been getting steadily worse, and I can’t see any reason why it won’t continue that way if it’s not addressed. I’d recommend a therapist in the meantime. My expertise is more to do with the body and the magic--a therapist will be able to help with the mental side. I will tell you one thing, however--if it’s gotten to the point where he’s neglecting his health, then that means he’s a potential danger to himself. If something like this happens again, you should start to consider a long-term solution.”

“What does THAT mean?”

Dr. Simurgh pulled a business card out from between two feathers and offered it to Papyrus.

“There’s a Doctor Caladrius in the north of Outside,” she said. “He’s setting up a clinic for long-term care for monsters who are sick or mentally unwell or near the end of their lives. It’s specifically for monsters who require constant, round-the-clock monitoring and care. I don’t think Sans’s case is that severe, but…if he gets worse, it’s something you should consider. ”

Out of the corner of his eyesocket, Sans saw Papyrus staring at the business card like it was a weapon. He very slowly reached out to take it, movements jerky and automatic. Icy silence fell over the hospital room.

Sans burst out laughing.

Both Papyrus and Dr. Simurgh turned to stare at him. Sans finally looked at his brother, pretending to not notice the expression on his face.

“Sorry, just,” Sans said, still chuckling. “It’s hilarious. Dad finally gets what he wanted.”

“What?” Papyrus demanded. “What does that EVEN MEAN?”

“Nothing, bro,” Sans said with a final amused snort. “Don’t worry about it. Hey, why don’t you go get Toriel and Frisk to come in here? We can even charge admission to the freakshow, make a quick buck. I think 50 G sounds good, how ‘bout you?”

Papyrus gave Sans a hurt expression but Sans couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“I told them to go on home,” he said. “They’re going to come by the house later tonight.”

“Fine. Cool. We can charge them later. Gives us time to hire some clowns or something.” Sans looked at Dr. Simurgh again, pointedly munching his food bar. “Anything else, doc?”

She rolled her eyes, clearly more than used to problem patients. “We’ll continue to monitor you until your DEF is back up. In any case, I’m sure the two of you have a lot to discuss. I’ll leave you both to it.”

She turned and walked out. That same, icy silence hung in the air, broken only by Sans chewing as loud as he could.

“Sans--”

“Nope,” Sans said, dusting crumbs onto his blanket. “Mouth is all dry from so much  _ talking.  _ Couldn’t possibly say another word.”

“Sans.”

“Nope.” Sans lay back down and turned onto his side, facing away from Papyrus. “Taking a nap.”

“Sans, please.”

Sans said nothing. He squeezed his eyesockets shut and pretended to fall asleep. Maybe then this could all just be an awful nightmare that he could wake up from. Funny how real life seemed to always end up worse than anything his mind could come up with.

Sans didn’t sleep. He just zoned out, mind blank, ignoring Papyrus’s rare attempts to try and engage him. An hour or so later, he felt his Defense click back into place, chasing away the last of the vertigo. Sans got up and got dressed in silence while Dr. Simurgh put through the paperwork to discharge him. A few minutes later, they were out the front door.

There was still snow on the ground, but the ceiling--the sky--was a cloudless blue. The sun was up and bright despite the cold. There were even a few birds singing. The Surface. It really was true.

Apparently, they were well across town from wherever they lived, so Papyrus had asked one of the humans to drive them both home. The human was darker-skinned than Frisk and vaguely familiar, though fortunately he didn’t seem to be aware that Sans had forgotten his name. Sans didn’t pay him much attention, even when the human spoke to him directly, asking him something about birds.

Sans wasn’t sure if it was his first time in a car, but it felt like it. He had a feeling it would be a lot more terrifying, or maybe a lot more exciting, if he wasn’t feeling so numb. He stayed quiet the whole way home, watching the streets and houses and buildings rush by, trying to keep track of street names and landmarks.

It wasn’t a long drive. They were home in a matter of minutes. The exterior of the house was only recognizable because of the wreath Papyrus had hung on the door, and the handful of crows perched on the roof.

“Made friends with those crows, huh?” the human asked when he noticed the birds. “I remember you said you’d been feeding them last time we talked.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Sans shrugged as he tried to figure out how the seatbelt unlatched. “They won’t leave me alone.”

“Crows are super intelligent,” the human said cheerfully. “You treat them right and you’ve got a friend for life. They always recognize a friend.”

Sans managed not to laugh, or to start screaming.

He stood in the living room a few moments later, staring at the unfamiliar carpet. At least it was the familiar kind of unfamiliar. So this was home. This was going to be how it was until the Reset. This was what waited for him in the best possible timeline, the one where everyone survived, the one where everyone was happy. Even if Frisk could Reset up here, it didn’t matter. Because eventually they’d come back to the Surface, and come right back to this point, with Sans standing in a house where he didn’t belong.

He didn’t belong anywhere up here. Dr. Simurgh had said it, hadn’t she? He couldn’t adapt. Couldn’t transition. Couldn’t cope. He’d spent so long trying to reclaim the past or desperately clinging to the present that the very idea of a  _ future  _ simply broke him.

He wondered if this was how Gaster had felt, toward the end. Slowly losing his mind, slowly losing his whole self.

Sans heard Papyrus close the front door. He shook himself out of his stupor and sighed, then headed for the stairs.

“I’m going to bed.”

“No you’re not.” Papyrus’s voice was exhausted and harrowed, but firm. “We need to talk.”

“I did enough talking for one day,” Sans said as he climbed the stairs. “Hey, check it out. Not passing out this time. Looks like I’m still good for something.”

“You’ve been hiding this since day one, haven’t you?” Papyrus said, following him. “Since we first stepped out of the mountain.”

“Wow, I made it all the way up.” Sans bounced in place at the top of the stairs, grinning emptily. “I’m practically a god.”

“Sarcasm ISN’T FUNNY, SANS,” Papyrus snapped, coming up after him. “I let you get away with it in front of the doctor, but NOT HERE. NO, SANS, I AM DONE. I AM DONE WITH YOU DODGING AND PRETENDING EVERYTHING IS ALRIGHT. IT STOPS NOW!”

“Yeah, okay.” Sans headed for his bedroom, kicking off his shoes as he went and leaving them in the hall. Instead of grumbling and stopping to pick them up like Sans expected, Papyrus walked right on past them, following him all the way into his bedroom. Sans grit his teeth and pulled off his hoodie, dropping it on the floor as well. Then he sank onto the bed.

Papyrus stood in his doorway, arms folded, eyelights fixed on Sans.

“Are you just gonna stand there? Cause I’m going to bed.”

“IF YOU TRY, I WILL START SINGING METTATON SONGS AS LOUD AS I POSSIBLY CAN! DON’T THINK I WON’T!”

The threat would have been funny any other time.

“Bro, what else is there to even say?” Sans said, staring dully back at him. “My mind doesn’t work anymore. Heh, if it ever did. That’s all there is to it.”

Papyrus spread his hands. “That is NOT all there is to it! You never said WHY this is happening!”

“I don’t  _ know  _ why,” Sans said, looking away and gripping the edge of the mattress.

“I THINK YOU DO! OTHERWISE YOU WOULD BE ABLE TO LOOK ME IN THE EYESOCKET WHEN YOU SAY IT! Dr. Simurgh said trauma could cause this, and--and it’s not like you would have told me if something terrible had happened!”

Sans grinned viciously. “What, is it too hard to believe that your brother finally just broke?”

“Sans!”

“I mean, guess I held out longer than anyone thought, but it was inevitable. It was always inevitable.”

Papyrus took a step closer to him, angry now. “You are NOT broken, Sans! YOU HAVE NEVER BEEN BROKEN!”

“Oh, okay. So I’m not allowed to bullshit you anymore, but it’s still okay if  _ you  _ bullshit  _ me.” _

“EXCUSE ME?”

“Just sayin’, I’m not the only one who pretends everything is alright. You’ve spent our whole lives pretending that I’m  _ fucking normal,  _ when we both know I’m not.”

“That--THAT IS NOT WHAT ANY OF THIS IS ABOUT! YOU ARE TRYING TO DERAIL BY MAKING ME UPSET, AND IT WILL NOT WORK! BECAUSE I HAVE NEVER PRETENDED THAT YOU ARE ‘NORMAL,’ BECAUSE ‘NORMAL’ IS A MADE-UP THING THAT DOESN’T EXIST, AND I AM NOT NORMAL EITHER, AND WE WOULDN’T BE THE SKELETON BROTHERS IF WE WERE!”

“Yeah, that’s sweet. Doesn’t change the fact that you pretend everything is peachy right alongside me. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re  _ not _ that naive, even if you pretend to be.”

_ Stop it. Stop it, stop talking before you hurt him.  _ Sans looked away again before he could see Papyrus’s face.

“I mean…that’s my fault, too,” he said, voice softening. “I must’ve taught you that. Or, I dunno, encouraged it. Saying people had gone on vacation when--”

Sans stopped. His eyelights flickered and died.

It wasn’t their parents. That wasn’t what he had lied about, because he had never actually  _ lied _ about it. He’d just let Papyrus believe what he wanted to believe. No. It was someone else. Someone else who--

Papyrus had been wearing a crown in the dream. The only way Papyrus would become king was if everyone else had died. If everyone else had…gone on vacation.

_ I think part of me always knew.  _ Papyrus had sounded utterly devastated, utterly resigned.  _ I think part of me was just…wondering if you would just tell me the truth on your own. _

_ Remember that you lied to him. _

_ Please go. I cannot be around you right now. _

He’d lied. He’d lied to his brother, probably in every timeline, or at least every timeline where Papyrus even survived. And in the current timeline, and in every version of the past. Sans had lied to his brother his entire life. And Papyrus had always simply pretended alongside him, or forgiven him.

Except that time. The one time he’d been pushed too far.

_ Everyone would be better off. _

The mattress bounced, startling Sans back into the present. He blinked and remembered to breathe. Papyrus had sat down on the bed next to him, hunched like he didn’t even have the energy to sit up. If Papyrus had said anything, Sans had missed it.

_ He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be anywhere near me. I’m not fit to be around him. _

“Like our parents, you mean?” Papyrus asked softly. “You…mentioned Dad. Back in the clinic.”

“Oh.” Sans blinked again slowly, trying to remember, trying to get back on track, trying not to break down. “Right.”

“Something about him getting what he wanted?”

“Yeah. Uh.” The instinct to dodge the question or hide the truth rose up inside him and Sans batted it aside without even thinking. None of this mattered anymore. None of it at all. “I heard them talking once. They thought they’d gotten what they wanted with you, so there was no point in having me around anymore. Dad wanted to send me away, lock me up in some clinic. Mom said it would make them look bad. I guess she overruled him, since they ended up keeping me.”

Sans stared at the floor, ignoring the way Papyrus was staring at him. A plan was starting to take form.

“I…” Papyrus’s voice was shaking. “I don’t…I don’t remember that…”

“I was pretty little. You woulda been just a babybones.” Sans closed his eyesockets. “She shoulda listened to him. You coulda been a normal family.”

“What? Sans, you can’t POSSIBLY believe that!”

“It’s fine, though. Better late than never.” Sans made himself grin. “You should call that Dr. Caladrius guy. Today or tomorrow. See how soon they can take me.”

“WH-WHAT?”

Sans laced his fingers together on his lap. “Places like that usually have like, regimented schedules. So they’d make sure I was eating and sleeping properly. The whole point of them is to look after people who can’t look after themselves, and better them than you.”

“NO! SANS, I REFUSE!” Papyrus’s hand planted on Sans’s shoulder. “Sans, I am NOT letting you get locked up in some, some kind of HOSPITAL-PRISON!”

“It’s the best decision for everyone. And it’s probably not as bad as it sounds. Three square meals a day, a free bed, someone looking after me all the time. It could be great.”

“You would HATE it, Sans.” Papyrus gave Sans’s shoulder a shake, but Sans didn’t move. “You HATE feeling trapped or vulnerable more than ANYTHING.”

“I’d get used to it,” Sans said, shrugging, still staring into space. “I’d probably eventually forget I ever had anything different.”

“Sans. No. Sans, please, look at me.”

Sans didn’t move. Papyrus turned him around until he was at least facing him, but Sans just stared right through him.

“I am not going to send you away.” There were tears at the corners of Papyrus’s eyesockets, but he looked more determined than Sans had ever seen him. “You are my ONLY brother. I am not going to simply get rid of you just because you’re sick! I’m not like them.”

“Then I’ll call them myself. Because it’s either this, or you quit your job so you can look after me. And don’t deny it, I know you were about to suggest it, and I  _ refuse,  _ Papyrus.”

“Sans--”

“No, I’m not gonna let you ruin your life for me. I can’t--I can’t be more of a burden than I’ve already been. I can’t.  _ I won’t.  _ I’ve--I’ve done too much damage already, stuff you don’t even-- _ know  _ about. Stuff I can’t even explain. I can’t be trusted around you anymore.”

“Sans, why in the WORLD would you say that? You KNOW that’s not true!”

“You don’t know the half of what I’ve done, bro,” Sans said, and he let out a short, shaky laugh. “Even  _ I  _ don’t know.”

“Well, it DOESN’T MATTER! Because no matter what it is, you KNOW that I will ALWAYS FORGIVE YOU!”

Sans hunched in on himself. “What if there was something  _ so bad  _ that even you couldn’t forgive me? What if--what if I finally pushed you too hard and… Papyrus, it’s--it’s over. Okay? Look, it’ll be fine. You’re gonna be such an amazing ambassador. And you know I’ll always be rooting for you. Even if I forget. This is what’s best, bro. I can’t let you quit. I can’t just--”

Suddenly Papyrus was hugging him, even tighter than he had back in the clinic. He pulled Sans close, trembling as he held him. Sans stayed limp in his arms, head pressed against Papyrus’s chest.

“Stop,” Papyrus whispered. “There’s nothing you could do that I wouldn’t eventually forgive you for. Even if it took a minute or a day. I would always forgive you.”

Sans squeezed his eyesockets shut.

“And stop acting like those are the only two options,” Papyrus said, holding a little tighter. “You are not going to be locked up in a clinic, and I am not going to quit being the best monster mascot in the world. We’re going to talk and we’re going to ask our friends for help and we’re going to figure this out. We’ll figure out how to get that silly skull of yours to remember things a little better. And it might take time and it will absolutely take hard work, but we will  _ figure it out,  _ because I am The Great Papyrus and you are the brother of The Great Papyrus, and the skeleton brothers  _ always  _ come out on top. Okay?”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair for him to be  _ so goddamn good _ and to still insist on holding onto something  _ so goddamn bad.  _ Suddenly Sans found himself hating his parents more than he had in decades, for not getting rid of Sans when they had the chance, for having Sans at all, for forcing someone like Papyrus to become reliant on someone like Sans.

This really must have been what Gaster had felt, when Sans had tried to reason with him there at the very end, had tried to convince him there was still a way to change things, that there was still hope. All the while knowing that it was already over. That it was much too late.

“Sans?” Papyrus squeezed him a little tighter, voice plaintive. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Sans finally answered, resigned. Resigned, but willing to listen, because Papyrus was right after all. There were other options.

“Okay.” Papyrus’s grip relaxed slightly. “Good.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“WE WILL! We are both VERY GOOD at figuring things out!”

“Yeah.” Sans forced a bit of tired amusement into his voice. “Can’t keep us down.”

“Exactly!”

They lapsed into silence for awhile, Papyrus still hugging him. Sans was grateful for the quiet. It gave him more time to think and solidify his plan. It would work. It wouldn’t even be that difficult.

“You must be incredibly tired,” Papyrus said eventually.

“Yeah,” Sans admitted. “It’s been a day. You must be pretty dang tired too.”

“Perhaps a little!”

Sans opened his eyesockets, studying the threads in Papyrus’s shirt.

“Pretty hungry, too,” he said. “Hospital food’s got no substance. They really haven’t improved it much in the past thirty or so years.”

“I suppose some things never change,” Papyrus said sagely. “Well…since it’s been A DAY, as you said, what if I let you take a very long nap and get you something from Grillby’s before Toriel and Frisk come over?”

“Heh, really?” Sans made himself grin. “Gonna encourage my bad habits?”

“Grillby’s food might be TERRIBLE, but at least it is FULL OF MAGIC! Toriel might have also mentioned something about bringing a pie over, so you’ll be ABSOLUTELY OVERFLOWING WITH MAGIC by the end of the day!”

“That’s awesome, bro. I could go for pie. And a burger. Maybe some fries too.”

“I can order you your favorite! Although, I’m not sure if Grillby is delivering yet.”

“Well,” Sans said, slow and casual and careful, “if you go pick it up, you could tell Grillby and the others that I’m doing okay. If I haven’t been there in awhile, they’re probably getting worried.”

Papyrus hesitated. “I am not sure that I like the idea of leaving you alone.”

“Fair,” Sans said, because he was too good at this. “But I can guarantee you I’d be napping the whole time. I’d text Grillbz, but he’d probably believe it more if it was coming from you. You’re actually trustworthy.”

“Hmm…”

Papyrus was quiet for a moment, thinking it over, debating. Sans waited patiently.

“Alright,” Papyrus said finally. “Just get some rest in the meantime, alright? We still have things to talk about.”

“Okay,” Sans said, smiling almost for real. It was so easy. So painfully easy. “Thanks, bro. I appreciate it.”

Papyrus pulled back, letting him go and smiling.

“Thank YOU for talking to me, Sans,” he said, so earnest that Sans felt his soul nearly break. “I know it’s…not always easy for us. And it really has been a terrible day. I would not have been surprised if you had simply refused to talk to me at all after all that, but…you didn’t, and…I think that is very brave of you!”

Sans grinned at him, wishing he was dead.

“That, uh. That means a lot, bro. Thanks.”

Papyrus rubbed the top of Sans’s head and slowly got to his feet. He looked so hopeful. Ready to face down an uncertain future with his brother.

“I will be back soon!”

“I’ll be here.”

Papyrus gave him a final, proud smile, then turned and walked out, closing the door behind him. Sans listened to his footsteps receding down the hall, and then down the stairs. He waited until he was sure Papyrus was on his way out. Then he pulled out his phone.

There had never been very many names in Sans’s contact list, and there was only one in there that was somewhat unfamiliar. He had entered it as “Steven Bird Guy.” Sans’s memory might be shot, but he still had his ability to reason.

He tapped the number and raised the phone. Steven picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, it’s Sans,” he said. “Hate to bother you again so soon, but if you’re not too busy, I was wonderin’ if you could do me a huge favor.”

  
  
  


The drive up the mountain was a lot longer than the drive home had been. This time, Sans was able to actually appreciate it. He leaned his head against the window, watching the whole world go by as they rose higher and higher. The forest must have gone on for miles, and beyond that was the glittering outline of a huge city. Beyond even that were great, jutting points of land that had to be other mountains. The Surface really was beautiful, all shades of greens and browns, patches of white from the snow, the endless blue of the sky. It was all so big. Impossibly, terrifyingly big. No wonder it had been so hard to accept it.

“So, uh,” Steven piped up from the driver’s seat. “Why do you need to go back to the Underground, anyway?”

“Eh, we just forgot some junk in the basement. Totally missed it during the move.” It wasn’t even really a lie. Nothing from Sans’s lab had made it to the Surface.

“Alright,” Steven said. He seemed unsure about all this, but apparently it wasn’t enough for him to stop the car and turn around. “You know, if it doesn’t take too long, I could wait with the car down the mountain. Or I could even come in with you? I’ve kind of been curious about what it’s like in there.”

“Heh, I appreciate it, but the Underground’s pretty miserable. Really not much to see. And Snowdin’s a long walk from the entrance. I’ll probably be out in a couple hours and I’d hate to make you wait that long. I’ll just call you once I’m out.”

“Alright. If you’re sure.”

“I appreciate it, man,” Sans said, and he meant it. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Hey, I meant to ask earlier, but I kinda…figured it wasn’t the time, after that whole clinic thing. But uh, have you seen any good birds lately?”

“Nah,” Sans said, watching some animals that looked somewhat like Gyftrot milling about in a field as they passed. “Haven’t been outdoors in awhile.”

“Ah, okay. I get that.” There was a momentary awkward silence. “Hey, if you ever wanna set up a birdfeeder, now that you’ve got a permanent house and all, let me know.”

“Yeah. Will do.”

They lapsed into silence after that. Sans kept watching the world go by. The sun was starting to lower in the western edge of the sky.

Eventually, Steven brought them to the end of the human road. It stopped only partway up the mountain, spilling into a small dirt parking lot. A small chain hung across a narrow, poorly-kept dirt path that wound its way further upwards. Sans remembered this, though they had been coming the other way last time.

“Here we are,” Steven said, turning off the car. “It’s all hiking trails after this. It might be hard going with the snow. They don’t exactly maintain any of this. At least they didn’t until monsters started coming out.”

Sans unfastened his seatbelt, managing to figure it out on the first try this time.

“Thanks again,” he said as he got out. “I’ll call you in a few hours.”

Sans started to close the car door, but then Steven leaned toward him.

“Hey, uh.” He paused a moment, chewing his lip. “I know I don’t really know you all that well yet, but…you’re okay, right?”

Sans couldn’t help a genuine smile, though it was faint. What a strange human.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said. “Say hi to the crows for me while I’m in there, yeah?”

“Heh. Sure thing. See you in a few hours.”

Sans closed the door and stepped back a few feet, waving goodbye. He watched as Steven turned the car back around and started heading down the mountain once more. Then he stuffed his hands in his pockets and studied the trail.

Papyrus had probably gotten home by now. He had probably found the note already. It would take him awhile to figure out where Sans had gone, and then longer to come after him. The cave entrance was about a two hour hike upwards. Sans wasn’t the fastest of monsters, but he should be able to reach the Underground long before Papyrus caught up with him. He wasn’t sure if the other monsters who had returned to the Underground had any sort of community, or if they were spread out and gone feral. Either way, it wouldn’t be hard to find them, just like it wouldn’t be hard to disappear into the twisting caves and tunnels of the Underground.

He looked back out across the world of the Surface again. It was almost the same view as when he had first stepped out of the cave.

He didn’t belong up here. This was what was best for everyone.

Sans turned back to the trail and began the climb.


	8. LOAD #01654: Ending: ????: Off-Script

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Asgore finally have a cup of tea. Gaster returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains unreality.

Usually, this sort of thing was familiar. Trite, even. Sans figured that this whole shebang--waiting in the golden hall, checking his phone to see if the human had killed anyone else since the last time he’d seen them--was one of the few constants of all the timelines. Which made sense. He had to get a last look at them, after all, make a few judgment calls, decide if it was worth it to act. Give them a few parting words and send them on their way, whichever way that turned out to be.

It was usually familiar. And it  _ was  _ this time, but something about it felt…off. Something had felt off for awhile now. He couldn’t put his finger on it. 

He’d been wondering if maybe it was just that this was a unique timeline, but there was no way for him to know or even really suspect such a thing. He moved through the loops assuming that everything that could ever happen had already happened at least once, but of course there was no way to prove or disprove the theory. This exact sequence of events could have happened a thousand times already. The anomaly kept doubling back this time, reaching some kind of point that Sans didn’t understand, then going back through previous caves to either kill or not kill. It was almost like they were looking for something, or trying to check for changes.

But Sans didn’t think that was it. This was shaping up to be a truly middling run, with half the population dead so far, no rhyme or reason to how or who the anomaly killed. One of the countless dead-end timelines smack in the middle of things. Whether the timeline was unique or not just…didn’t matter. No, it was something else. He was missing something. A voice in the back of his head tried to point out that maybe he was just trying to avoid thinking about the fact that Papyrus was dead, again. He ignored it.

He was so deep in thought, eyelights fixed on the doorway at the end of the hall, that he almost didn’t notice the heavy footfalls behind him. He blinked himself back to reality and turned.

King Asgore was walking toward him, a placid smile on his face and a small teacup in each hand.

“Hello,” Asgore said, smile brightening when Sans turned. “I hope I didn’t startle you. I could not help but notice you lurking in my hallway. Would you like a cup of tea?”

He held out one of the cups. Sans blinked again, looking between the offered cup and Asgore’s face. He felt weirdly like a kid caught sneaking in the halls when he was supposed to be in class. After all, he was technically trespassing. It would stand to reason for the king to kick him out, or even have him arrested. And yet the king was…offering him tea.

“Oh. Uh.” He should probably answer. He looked at the cup again and reached for it slowly, not even really thinking. Asgore pressed the cup into his hand. “I. Thank you?”

He held the cup and stared up at Asgore, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Asgore smiled at him, then looked past him to the opposite end of the hall, raising the teacup to his mouth to take a sip.

“You’re…not gonna tell me to leave?”

“Hmm? Oh, no.” Asgore shook his head. “It is nice to have company, though I would have appreciated it if you had come and said hello.”

Sans felt heat creeping up his face, absurdly enough. He sipped his own tea to try and hide it.

“Sorry, Your Majesty,” he said when he’d gotten his composure back. “I kinda figured…I mean, I’m not really supposed to be here. But this is where I need to be, so…”

Sans hoped the king would let him leave it at that, because there was no possible way to explain why a random civilian would  _ need  _ to be this close to the throne room during a national emergency.

“Actually, I didn’t even know you knew I was here.”

“A guard informed me that you were here a little while ago. Though I must admit, I am a little curious as to how you got this far in without anyone noticing.”

Sans grinned faintly. “I’ve been told I’m, uh. Mysterious.”

Asgore chuckled. “Quite.”

They both lapsed into silence, sipping tea and watching the end of the hallway. Sans relaxed a little. The king didn’t seem to be upset, and he didn’t seem like he was going to kick Sans out, though Sans had no idea why. It was going to be a problem if the human showed up and Asgore was still here, however. That wasn’t how things were supposed to play out. They met Asgore in the throne room. That was how it always went. That was part of the script.

“We have met before, have we not?” Asgore asked after a minute. “Your name was…Sans, I believe?”

“Oh. Yeah. We, uh. Met in that one little side cave in Waterfall a couple…” Days? Weeks? Sans couldn’t remember. “A little while back. You had a quiche with you?”

“Ah, yes,” Asgore said, chuckling a little. “How silly. I cannot even remember why I made that quiche in the first place. I am not much of a baker, I am afraid.”

Sans shrugged. He could have sworn that Asgore had mentioned the reason, but he couldn’t remember that either.

“Baking’s tough. I think it’s more of an art than a science. You can’t just  _ flour _ your way through it.”

King Asgore laughed, a deep-chested rumble of sound.

“Oh ho, that is funny. It is nice to know that you can retain your sense of humor, even in light of… current events.”

“Heh. It’s a gift.”

Asgore sipped his tea and looked out one of the enormous stained glass windows. Golden light was streaming in from a distant crack in the cave ceiling.

“It’s a beautiful day out,” he said, smiling warmly. “I love the way this hallway looks at this time of day. It always reminds me of sunlight.”

“Yeah,” Sans said without really thinking. He blinked and followed the king’s gaze to the window. “Well…not that I’d know. But it’s pretty.”

“Hm. Depending on how things go, we all may see real sunlight very soon.”

Not in this timeline, at least. The opportunity had long since passed. But Sans almost wondered if they really had made it to the Surface, somewhere along the line. Was that why the light spilling in seemed so familiar? Or was it just because he had been in this hall so many times?

“Maybe,” he said, voice completely neutral. The Surface didn’t matter anymore. It never really had.

“May I ask you a question, Sans?”

“Sure. Of course.”

“What do you intend to do when the human arrives?”

Sans looked up at him. Asgore was still watching the end of the hallway, the handle of the teacup pinched between two enormous fingers.

He wasn’t going to fight them. They’d left handfuls of monsters alive, here and there. He’d decided long ago--long ago?--that he couldn’t risk it unless there was no other choice. Could only show his hand when he was the very last obstacle standing in their way. It was how it had to be. When they got to that point, he was the only one left alive with any hope of stopping them. But they’d left monsters alive this time, enough so that the species would survive for a little longer. At least until they Reset it all away.

“I just want to talk to them,” Sans said, though that wasn’t entirely true. He always said pretty much the same thing, he was sure of it, because it was all there in his head. Not even like some kind of speech he’d practiced, but just…like he’d said it so many times already that he had it memorized, the same as the rest of the script. It didn’t matter. Nothing he said at this point mattered. He felt like sometimes maybe there was a Reset right after their conversation, but it couldn’t possibly be because they had actually listened. And even if they had, was that really any kind of victory? Should he feel  _ triumphant  _ that they had erased an entire timeline and started over?

It was only a victory in the very, very worst of the timelines. He knew full well that no matter how strong he was or how strong they were, there was no way for him to really defeat them. The best he could ever hope for was for them to just…Quit. That was the only time it could possibly feel like a victory. And that wasn’t how things were going this time. There was no reason for them to Quit now.

Not that anything they ever did ever seemed to have a reason.

“I see,” Asgore said thoughtfully. “What would you say to them?”

“Just, I dunno.” Sans shrugged, stuffing his free hand into his pocket. “Remind them that they can do better, I guess. It’s, uh. It’s what my brother would have wanted.”

“Oh. I…Sans, I am very sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” Asgore’s head bowed slightly. “Trust me. I understand.”

Sans said nothing. As much as he wanted to dismiss it, deny it, Asgore absolutely  _ would _ understand what it was like. He’d lived through the war, had sought peace, only to lose both his children, and then to have his wife leave him. Sans glanced sidelong up at Asgore’s face. He looked tired. And very old.

“I used to despise humans,” he said quietly, sipping his tea. “I think perhaps a part of me still does. And yet…the longer I live and the more I see, the more I come to understand that they are just people. Different from us, but also similar in many ways. And these, the humans who come here, are--children. All of them, children.”

Sans hesitated, tapping a finger against the rim of his cup, frowning to himself.

“Does…that make it okay, then?” he said quietly. “That they’re, what…just kids who don’t know any better? Maybe--maybe that makes sense for the others, but this one--not for this one.”

Asgore tilted his head. “Why do you say that?”

“It’s complicated,” Sans said, frown deepening as he watched the end of the hallway. They could be here any minute now. “Just that they should’ve had  _ time  _ enough by now to know the difference between right and wrong.”

“Ah,” Asgore said, nodding a little. “Well. It is not always as simple as you might think.”

“No, but--” Sans cut himself off, grip tightening on the teacup. No, he couldn’t just say that to the king. The king who had murdered  _ children  _ for the sake of his people, for a chance at freedom for monsterkind. And it wasn’t just Asgore. He thought of Gaster as well, who’d had good intentions at first. Of Alphys, who had done something terrible that Sans couldn’t quite remember, but who had done it out of desperation and a desire to help. All of them adults, all of them presumably better at telling the difference between right and wrong than a child.

And Sans himself. Sans was no better than Asgore. And unlike Asgore, Sans had no LOVE to show for it, no one who would ever know what he had done or blame him for it. All on a technicality. It was sickening.

Who the hell was he to judge anyone?

“Hmm,” Asgore said and Sans looked up at him again. “Children are…more complicated than we often give them credit for. My…”

A pained look came across Asgore’s face.

“My human child was troubled. They had a difficult life. Some of their actions and behaviors…no doubt to an outsider, they would have seemed unusual or even unsettling. I remember, there was an old friend of mine who never really came to trust them, who could not help but see them as a potential threat. But they were simply a child. A troubled child. It took a great deal of time and patience to understand them and where they were coming from. Love can come easily. Understanding, however, takes time. Children need…”

Asgore trailed off and seemed to almost seize up, a shudder running through him that almost made him spill his tea. He made a soft sound and raised the cup to his mouth again, draining it.

“But I have lost the right to talk about what children need.”

Sans stared into his own cup, eyelights dim.

“I’m…really sorry, Your Majesty.”

“Ah, no,” Asgore said, drawing himself up again and forcing a smile. “Forgive me. I did not mean to become so melancholy. That is twice now that I have placed my burdens on you, and that is not fair of me.”

Sans shook his head quickly. “No, it’s, uh. It’s okay, really. I mean, you said before how you don’t really have anyone to talk to and…I’m, heh, I’m told that talking helps. Not that I’d know.”

“Talking is difficult,” Asgore said, sighing. “I feel that it is somehow easier to talk to someone you do not know too well. That said, if there is anything you would like to get off your chest while we are both still here, then I will be happy to listen.”

The sickening feeling came back, lurching through Sans’s soul. Some part of him--a shockingly  _ huge  _ part of him--wanted to just start talking and never stop. Asgore was right; it was easier to talk to someone you didn’t know too well. Sans could tell him everything. Absolutely everything--about Gaster, about the anomaly, about the timelines. He could dump it all right here and now, get all of it off his chest, and it wouldn’t matter. None of it would matter, because Asgore would be dead in a matter of minutes. It was a constant. Asgore never lived to see the end of the world. Sans could even  _ tell him so _ and it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t change a thing.

All it would do was make Sans feel a little better. A little less burdened. He hadn’t even realized how much it had all been festering away, hidden inside him, and for how  _ long.  _ The opportunity to get it out was more tempting than Sans would ever have guessed. He could feel himself starting to debate internally, weighing whether he could maybe,  _ maybe  _ just tell him one or two things. But he wouldn’t be able to stop at that. Somehow he knew he wouldn’t. Not until he’d burdened a dead monster with everything and made Asgore’s last minutes in the world that much more terrible.

Sans finished his tea, ignoring the way his hands shook.

“Nah,” he said finally. “‘Preciate the offer, but I’m okay. Wouldn’t want to be spilling my  _ guts  _ when the human shows up anyway, heh.”

He held out his empty teacup to Asgore. The king took it carefully.

“Very well,” he said with a slow nod. “I understand.”

They were both quiet for awhile, watching the end of the hall.

“I suppose I should take my place back in the throne room,” Asgore said at length. “But I wish you luck, Sans. Perhaps you will be able to get through to them.”

“Yeah. Heh. Here’s hoping.”

King Asgore turned and began walking back to the throne room, humming under his breath as he went. Sans watched him go. It was strange to think that this was the last time he would see the king in this timeline. Some part of him still longed to speak up, just tell the king everything. The one person it was safe to talk to and the one time it was safe to talk--when none of it would count.

Sans hadn’t felt shame in a very long time, but the fact that he wanted it so much was utterly revolting. How  _ pathetic  _ of him. What was he going to do, whine about how  _ hard  _ it was to know some unfortunate things about the world? To the monster who was about to  _ die? _ Cry about losing Papyrus again to the monster who had lost his whole family? And how  _ vile _ was it that the one time he wanted to talk, it was only to someone who wouldn’t be able to judge him or question him or ever tell anyone else?

He was such a piece of shit.

A door closed. Asgore had disappeared. Sans gritted his teeth and turned back to the other end of the hall. There were more important things to focus on than his own pointless feelings. The human was coming, and that conversation with Asgore hadn’t shaken the uncanny sense that something was still  _ off.  _ But that didn’t matter either.

None of it ever mattered.

The anomaly didn’t keep him waiting for much longer. Sans heard their soft footsteps from around the corner a few minutes later. He stayed where he was in the shadow cast by one of the pillars. At this angle, they wouldn’t see him until they’d come almost halfway down the hall. He inclined his head as he watched them step into the hallway, pausing near the end to give a quick glance at a spot on the floor. Then they approached. He could see them looking around, trying to spot him. They knew he was here. They’d probably been here a thousand times already.

It was so routine.

They stopped when they spotted him, just like always. He stepped out of the shadows.

“So you finally made it,” he intoned, as if he was saying anything important. Their face was as blank as it always was, but they looked almost impatient. They’d heard it all before. He’d  _ said  _ it all before.

He said all his usual things about LOVE and EXP, about righteousness and judgment, as if he was qualified for any of this, as if he wasn’t a hypocrite just for standing here in front of them. He kept thinking about Asgore. How he was just waiting in the throne room, doing whatever kings did to pass the time before they had to potentially murder a child. All that LOVE in his soul. What he’d said about it being complicated.

They had 8 LV. They watched him with an aloof, distant expression as he talked, like they weren’t really listening. Sans felt almost like it wasn’t even himself that was talking. It all felt so…removed. Detached. He had no way of knowing how many times they’d both been here like this, but it was like it was finally hitting him. It had to be so  _ boring  _ for them. All else aside, everything about judgments and LOVE and who was dead and who wasn’t, Papyrus’s dust in the snow, all of it--it had to be  _ so goddamn boring.  _ It couldn’t be pure apathetic curiosity, because they must have seen so much by now, if not everything they could possibly ever see. It couldn’t be a desire to save monsterkind any more than it could be a desire to destroy them. What was there to be gained from walking through the same caves and hearing the same things from the same people over and over and over?

Wasn’t this just as exhaustingly routine for them as it was for him? Weren’t they just going through the motions?

His brother was dead again. He should be furious.

“Now, I understand acting in self-defense,” he heard himself saying, eyesockets half closed, barely even paying attention. That seemed stupid. He should be focused on them, just in case. It wasn’t like they could move or act right now, but it wasn’t smart to let his guard down. But god, he could do this whole thing in his sleep.

“You were thrown into those situations against your will,” he went on, and he thought of Asgore again. There was still a  _ choice _ involved, for both of them, wasn’t there? “But…sometimes…”

What if it wasn’t a choice?

His eyesockets slid open again. That was ridiculous. How could it not be a choice?

He was supposed to keep talking. He could remember it, sort of. The script didn’t truly act like a memory. It was more like…more like he knew what to say, as he said it. Like he said it because he was supposed to, because he had before, like he--had no choice.

He frowned to himself.  _ You act like you know what’s gonna happen,  _ he was supposed to say.  _ Like you’ve already experienced it all before. _

He was supposed to--he was  _ supposed to _ say it.

Sans blinked. He felt something, somewhere, break.

_ I just want to talk to them,  _ he’d told Asgore, but was this really what he wanted to say? Was this what he should be saying?

“Kid, what the hell are we doing?”

He stared at the floor as he said it. Gold and orange tiles, cast in light and stark shadows.

“It just…” Sans spread his hands a little. This felt wrong. So utterly, fundamentally wrong. He suddenly wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say, what he wanted to say, what he should say. He was stuck with the uncanny image of walking slowly up the snow-covered side of…of…a slope of some kind. Upwards. A cold wind blowing and a blue ceiling above him.

“It just seems so…boring,” he said finally, looking up at them, frowning. The distant expression had vanished from their face. They were staring at him now, intensely, eyes slowly widening.

“There must have been a first timeline,” he said, staring back at them, still not sure what the hell he was saying. “But how long’s it been now? You killed him again. Why’d--why’d you kill him again if you--if you already knew what would happen?”

Their eyes were practically bugging out of their head now. They looked thunderstruck.

“Why are we doing this all again, kid?” There was an unbidden note of desperation in his voice. This--this was wrong, all of this was wrong, and he should just shut up, just go back to the script, if he could even remember what he was supposed to do and say. He had to be having some kind of nervous breakdown, but he also  _ couldn’t  _ be, he couldn’t just…

They stared at him, breathing fast, their mouth working soundlessly for a moment. They drew a sharp breath, like a gasp.

“You--” they began.

And then everything stopped.

  
  
***

 

 

Usually, arriving in the Void was like waking up. It was slow, almost ponderous. This time was different. He stepped into darkness and it was sudden and sharp, enough so that he stumbled and almost lost his footing. He frowned, turning in place, as if there had to be something new to see in all the darkness. It felt almost like he had been simply walking along and then just ended up here--only that wasn’t possible. He only came here when he was asleep, and then only when Gaster wanted him here. Though “asleep” wasn’t really accurate anymore, not since the second anomaly had reached the Underground. Lately it seemed like he only came here between Resets.

He looked around. This felt so--abrupt. It felt wrong. There was the ghost of whatever he’d been thinking and feeling before the timeline had ended, like the afterimage of panic. He’d been upset about something. Even now he could feel cold sweat running down the back of his neck and his breathing was unsteady.

There was a flash of red in front of him and the next thing Sans knew, hands were gripping the front of his hoodie and he was being shoved backward. He didn’t even have time to  _ think  _ about dodging.

_ “What did you DO?” _

Sans stumbled, tripping over his feet as the Void creature shook him hard.

“What?”

_ “You IDIOT! Were you even thinking? Do you EVER think?” _

They tightened their grip, lifting him upwards just enough that his heels left the floor.

“Let go.”

_ “Answer me, hypocrite! What did you do? Where did you go?” _

“I don’t know what you’re  _ talking _ about.”

_ “LIAR.” _

Sans’s hand twitched and a Gaster Blaster appeared right next to them, aimed at where he thought their head was.

“I said  _ let go.” _

_ “You think you can scare me, trashbag?” _

Sans gritted his teeth and fired. White light filled his vision and the hands gripping him let go. Sans hit the floor of the Void and reeled backwards, eyelights darting around, trying to spot any sign of red.

They came at him from behind this time, and his only warning was a faint hiss of static. He whirled and dodged to the side as a knife arced downward, leaving a red gash in the darkness that crackled for a moment before fading.

“Why are you doing this?” Sans said, voice steady as he backed away.

_ “Don’t pretend that you don’t know,”  _ they snarled, advancing on him.  _ “You upset them. They think this is THEIR fault. You will tell me where you’ve gone if I have to CARVE it out of you.” _

Sans kept backing away, mind scrambling, trying to remember what they’d talked about the last time he’d seen this creature, what he’d been doing before the Reset.

“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, voice just barely staying even. “Is it--in the golden hall before, I was saying something…I think something went wrong.”

_ “Do not play games with me. This has NOTHING to do with the golden hall.” _

They lunged for him and he scrambled backward, dodging out of reach.

“Then what? Last time you said--you said I’m out of sync, right? Something--something about not matching up--right?”

They paused for a moment, outline flickering. They kept their knife pointed at him.

_ “You always act like you remember everything. Why the hell should I believe that you’ve forgotten?” _

They took another step forward and Sans held up both hands. There was a split second where he almost summoned a Gaster Blaster, but--no. No, there was no point in fighting. It was a waste of energy, here even more than usual. Trying to get the drop on them didn’t work, and reasoning with them didn’t seem like much of an option either. The only thing that ever seemed to work was stalling. Just like with the human.

He turned his palms out in placating gesture, letting the rising hum of magic fade to nothing.

“Because acting like I remember everything doesn’t mean I actually do,” he said. “I’m--look, if you know as much about me as you seem to, you know I’m  _ real  _ good at pretending.”

_ “All the more reason to never believe a word you say.” _

“Just--just explain it to me. Okay? Cause I’m pretty sure I’m not the Sans you’re looking for. I’m--heh,  _ non _ sans.” He looked them up and down, eyelights lingering on the knife. “The last time we talked you…you said that there’s another version of me, a parallel timeline. You told me to remember something. It was--something about--”

Sans’s eyelights went out. His hands dropped to his sides.

“Papyrus.”

They regarded him from a few feet away, knife still pointed at his chest. They tilted their head.

_ “And did you remember?” _

“I--I must have…”

He could remember it, clear as day. Standing in some room in the castle, Papyrus pacing back and forth as he explained how he’d figured it out, voice broken, betrayed and devastated. Sans desperately trying to explain himself, when there was no good reason, no reason at all. He’d lied to protect his brother. And himself. In the end, Papyrus had told him to leave.

It had been some other timeline. One from before, or maybe one that was coming.

_ “So I ask you again. Why should I ever believe you when you say that you don’t remember something?” _

Sans pressed a hand to the side of his skull, feeling light-headed. He wasn’t even really looking at them anymore. How could he do that? How could he do that to his brother?

“It’s…it’s a different…I’m from a different one,” he said absently. “I was in the hall…judging the kid, and then it was like…everything stopped. I said something…I think I said something strange to them. The--the kid must’ve Reset right away.”

The being’s form straightened. Their knife lowered just slightly.

_ “What did you say then?” _

“I don’t…I don’t know.” He shook his head, eyelights flickering back but staying dim and small. “Something--off. I went off-script. Like…there was another time, wasn’t there? Last time, you were upset because I’d--I’d said something to them, the human, right? It was different from that. Something about it was--wrong.”

Sans frowned suddenly. Off-script. Why did he think of it that way? Why did he think of it as a  _ script? _

_ “Hm.”  _ They tapped the point of their knife against where their chin would be.  _ “I believe I know which timeline you are talking about. An older timeline, one that ended prematurely. You started speaking gibberish, if I remember correctly.” _

“What? No, I was--”

_ “But that is still not proof. You remember the King Papyrus ending, which was a timeline that came after the one you speak of. You can remember events from the future. I still see no reason to believe you that you, mysteriously, cannot remember the one I have been watching.” _

Sans scrubbed at his face, trying to chase thoughts of Papyrus out of his mind. He needed to focus. He could wallow in guilt later.

“When you say it ended prematurely, what do you mean?”

“A CRASH.”

The voice came from much too close by. Sans teleported, landing a solid ten feet away. Gaster. Gaster was here. Sans hadn’t even felt him approach. Sans’s soul felt like it was going to burst, panic flooding his marrow. Gaster had gotten the drop on him so  _ easily.  _ If he was here to hurt Sans again…

But Gaster seemed to be keeping his distance. There was nothing to see, not even a flicker of white hands, but Sans could feel him, hovering nearby.

The Void being hadn’t moved, but their outline was flickering in agitation. They were pointing their knife toward an unseen spot in the darkness.

_ “You.” _

“GREETINGS.”

The being’s outline settled. The knife stayed where it was. Sans glanced between them and the spot in the Void they seemed to be staring at.

_ “I wondered if I might find you in here,”  _ they said, toneless.  _ “And you speak this time. How interesting. I suppose it is good to finally meet you,  _ **spr_mysteryman_0** _.” _

“YOU AS WELL,  **spr_truechara_0** .”

It was like they were both speaking another language. Like back when Gaster would talk too quickly and the sounds and hand motions would get all jumbled until nothing made sense. Sans squinted, trying to parse what he had heard. Even the memory of it was jumbled, like whatever they’d just said simply wouldn’t stick in his mind.

“What,” Sans said, straightening, “the hell, Doc.”

“HELLO, SANS.”

_ “‘Doc.’ How interesting! The human had a theory, but they were never able to confirm. So you really are that doctor fellow, Doctor…the name escapes me. The one who ‘fell into his creation.’ The man who speaks in hands.” _

“OH.” Gaster shifted to the side, moving in a slow arc toward Sans. “THE RIVERPERSON. HAS NOT CHANGED MUCH, I SEE. STILL LOVES THEIR RIDDLES.”

_ “And Sans knows you as well, does he?” _ The creature turned toward Sans, head canted, smile turning wry.  _ “You really are a mysterious know-it-all.” _

Sans felt a hand on his shoulder and flinched hard. The sensation vanished and Gaster moved away, soundlessly. Sans wasn’t sure he could take this. Gaster hadn’t tried to hurt him in ages now, but he’d proven time and time again how unpredictable he was. And adding the Void creature to the mix?

This couldn’t possibly be good.

“Been awhile, Doc,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and trying to act as nonchalant as possible. “Was kinda starting to think you’d forgotten all about me.”

“FORGIVE ME. FOR STARTLING YOU BOTH.”

_ “I wasn’t startled,”  _ the Void being grumbled.

“THERE WERE THINGS I. HAD TO SEE TO. AND I HOPED. THAT THE TWO OF YOU WOULD BE ABLE TO RESOLVE THINGS ON YOUR OWN. BUT BOTH OF YOU ARE. TOO MUCH ALIKE. EXTREMELY STUBBORN.”

Sans snorted and glanced in the direction of Gaster’s voice.

“Pot, kettle.”

_ “We are nothing alike.” _

“Hey, something we agree on.”

_ “Why are you here, Mysteryman? It doesn’t count as finding a secret if the human is not here to witness this.” _

“THE HUMAN CANNOT COME HERE. YOUR MISTAKE. IS IN SEEING TOO MANY THINGS AS SECRETS. YOU HAVE FALLEN INTO THE SAME TRAP AS THE FLOWER. DESPAIR. IS NOT USEFUL.”

Their smile went taut.  _ “Ah. Despair. Is that what you think it is?” _

“HOW ELSE SHOULD I DESCRIBE IT?”

_ “It is  _ reality,  _ Mysteryman. You called me what I am. If you know, then you should understand.” _

“I AM SURPRISED. YOU SHOULD KNOW, MORE THAN MOST. THAT REALITY IS MALLEABLE.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sans said, cutting in and jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m just gonna--go. Head hurts enough as it is. See you both in the next Reset.”

He turned and started to walk away.

“STAY.”

“Nah,” Sans said, not even pausing. “I’m done with this. You haven’t changed at all, and  _ they’re  _ never gonna explain a single damn thing to me, so I’m out. Don’t have the patience for this bullshit all over again, Doc. So I’ll just, uh, see you later, so to speak.”

Sans took another step and a hand came down on his shoulder, gripping hard. He tried to jerk free and the hand only tightened.

“STAY.”

There was the old danger in his voice that meant Gaster wasn’t asking. Sans could escape if he really tried--he’d beaten Gaster before--but fighting back would be exhausting. Sans didn’t think he had that sort of energy. Not anymore. Especially not if the other one decided to join in. It wasn’t like they had stopped being angry at him for whatever he had done in that other timeline.

He went still, resigned.

“Fine.”

He glanced back at the flickering red static nearby. They seemed to be watching, their smile neutral and unreadable.

“FIRST OF ALL,” Gaster said, in a tone like he was speaking to unruly children, “SANS DOES NOT KNOW EVERYTHING. FAR FROM IT. HE OPERATES ON WHAT LITTLE MEMORY HE HAS. HE MAKES EDUCATED GUESSES. NO MORE.”

_ “And why should I believe you any more than I should believe him?” _

“SECOND OF ALL.” Gaster’s grip on Sans’s shoulder eased a little. “THEY ARE JUST AS LOST AND CONFUSED AS YOU ARE. THEY LASH OUT BECAUSE. THEY DO NOT SEE THE FULL PICTURE. AND THEY HAVE LEARNED NOT TO TRUST.”

_ “Spoilers, Mysteryman,”  _ they said, sounding like they were speaking through their teeth.

“DESPAIR. IT IS A PLAGUE ON THIS WORLD. IT MANIFESTS IN DIFFERENT WAYS. CAUSES DIFFERENT SYMPTOMS. IT CAN ONLY BE DEFEATED. WITH ACTION. THE ACTIONS OF MANY.”

_ “I’m starting to understand why he doesn’t want to talk to you.” _

“Doc, they’re right,” Sans said, tugging forward a little to test Gaster’s grip. He still wasn’t letting go. “I can’t do all this again. I don’t even know what’s going  _ on. _ You were gone for--I don’t even know how  _ long.  _ And then you just show up again and go right back into your bullshit like nothing’s different. I’m so tired. Between the two of you, I’m exhausted.”

Sans didn’t care how pathetic it sounded, nor did he care that the Void creature could plainly hear him. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t possibly try to fight against both of them, any moreso than he could be expected to try and untangle all the riddles and doublespeak. He was just so damn tired. It felt like before--like standing in the golden hallway and feeling like he was on the verge of some kind of breakdown, peeling back all that soft golden light and seeing the horrific reality underneath.

An odd way to think of it. Seeing something underneath…

“THEN LET ME EXPLAIN.”

_ “More secrets. Oh, what a delight.” _

Sans sighed heavily, closing his eyesockets. Gaster wasn’t going to let him go. Sans was just going to have to sit through some half-assed, half-coherent “explanation” while the Void creature no doubt provided sarcastic commentary. Why couldn’t the Reset just happen already?

“THIS WORLD WAS BUILT WITH CERTAIN RULES,” Gaster said, slow and somewhat halting. “THESE RULES ARE ABSOLUTE. UNCHANGING. WHEN SOMEONE ATTEMPTS TO ALTER THOSE RULES. OR CHANGE THINGS. THE WORLD DOES NOT ALLOW IT. A FAILSAFE OCCURS. TO PREVENT FURTHER CORRUPTION. A STOPPAGE. A CRASH. SO THAT IT CAN SAFELY START OVER.”

Sans pinched the space between his eyesockets, only vaguely listening. It was all the same as usual, all the same nonsense and incomprehensible riddles. The other one took a few steps closer, head tilted again. They seemed like they were actually listening.

“AS YOU SAID, SANS. YOU WENT ‘OFF-SCRIPT.’ A CURIOUS CHOICE OF WORDS. BUT ACCURATE. THE SCRIPT IS ONE OF THOSE RULES. YOU ATTEMPTED TO ALTER IT. I DO NOT KNOW HOW OR WHY. THE WORLD STOPPED YOU. IT IS THE WORLD’S ATTEMPT AT SELF-PRESERVATION.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Sans tugged forward again, and this time Gaster finally let go. Sans could walk off again, get away from all this stupid bullshit, but…for some reason he didn’t. He turned and glared at where he thought Gaster might be.

“I wasn’t  _ trying _ to do anything. I don’t  _ try.  _ I was just--freaking out or something, that’s all.”

_ “It’s impossible.” _ There was open curiosity in their voice.  _ “It doesn’t work like that. We--the human controls the Resets.” _

“IT WAS NOT A RESET,” Gaster said, drifting slightly away from Sans, perhaps to give him space. “IT WAS A CRASH.”

_ “No. I refuse.”  _ They slapped a hand against their chest, taking another step forward.  _ “You are implying some kind of--external force. But I am the demon. I am the one responsible. When it goes wrong, when a number increases. I accept that responsibility. I always have.” _

“YOU? TRULY, ONLY YOU?”

They slowly lowered their hand. For a moment, they didn’t answer.

_ “The…the human controls the Resets. They are not innocent, but that too is my responsibility. I am a source of corruption. If I were not present…” _

They trailed off, head angling downward like they were staring at the floor. Their hands fell to their sides.

“THEN, MAY I ASK,” Gaster said carefully. “WHO IS IT YOU ARE SPEAKING TO IN THE VERY END, WHEN YOU HAVE ‘REACHED THE ABSOLUTE’?”

They jerked as if they’d been struck and the knife reappeared in their hand. Inky darkness spilled from between bared teeth.

_ “It is NOT POLITE to spy.” _

“IT HAPPENED RIGHT HERE. YOU COULD NOT HAVE HIDDEN IT FROM ME EVEN IF YOU HAD WISHED TO. EVEN IF YOU HAD. BEEN AWARE OF ME.”

_ “You are as bad as Sans,”  _ they snarled, brandishing the knife toward a point in space.  _ “Perhaps worse. You had no right to see such a thing.” _

“YET I DID. SO. WHO. WERE YOU TALKING TO?”

_ “I don’t have to answer your pointless questions.” _

“Kinda starting to feel like I should leave again…” Sans muttered. “I got no idea what either of you are talking about.”

It was important, whatever it was. The Void being had gotten agitated again, and Gaster seemed to be acting cautious. Sans could feel some kind of undercurrent from him, something like barely restrained desperation. He really was trying to explain himself. Sans had long since run out of sympathy for Gaster, but he did know how hard it was for him to be coherent. And Gaster had to know that Sans could force himself to wake up in the next timeline if he really tried, putting an end to whatever Gaster was trying to say.

Sans rubbed at his face, exasperated.

“Look, okay,” Sans said, holding up his hands. “Doc, just get to the point, yeah? Cause clearly you want us to listen, but you gotta do a better job of--yanno. Being clear? Cause you’re bein’ about as clear as a brick wall right now. Not like it’s anything new to me, but spooky here ain’t used to it.”

Gaster made a sound like he was clearing his throat. Sans couldn’t see the Void being’s eyes, but he was pretty sure they were glaring at him. Sans gave them a somewhat helpless shrug.

_ “Still with that stupid name. Well. At least it is six letters.”  _ They lowered their knife again.  _ “But yes. By all means. Clarify yourself, Mysteryman.” _

“AS I SAID. THE RULES ARE ABSOLUTE. BUT THERE ARE PLACES. AND TIMES. WHEN THOSE RULES CAN BE BENT. NOT BROKEN. BUT BENT.”

_ “And? So what?” _

“SO. THOSE PLACES CAN BE EXPLOITED. THIS IS ONE SUCH PLACE. SANS. THAT IS WHY I HAVE NOT CONTACTED YOU. I HAVE BEEN. CONDUCTING RESEARCH.”

“Research on  _ what? _ What do these rules or the ability to bend them or whatever even matter?”

“OH, SANS.” All at once, Gaster sounded hopelessly sad. “DON’T YOU REMEMBER WHAT I TOLD YOU LAST TIME?”

“I…” Sans blinked and looked away. The sorrow in Gaster’s voice had caught him off guard. “I dunno.”

“THAT LIFE HAS ALWAYS BEEN A SERIES OF MAYBES FOR YOU,” Gaster said, and for the first time since Sans could remember, his tone was gentle. “YOU HAVE SURVIVED BY BENDING THE RULES.”

Sans stuffed his hands in his pockets again, slumping where he stood.

“You also said that circles can be broken,” he said quietly. “But it hasn’t been broken. It hasn’t stopped. It’s never going to.”

_ “Shockingly, he is right,”  _ the other one said dryly.  _ “The Resets will not end. Especially if what you say is true, and there are other…powers at work.” _

“THAT IS WHY IT WILL TAKE WORK. AND ACTION FROM EVERYONE. AND A GREAT DEAL OF CAUTION. WHICH IS WHY WE ARE SPEAKING HERE, WHERE WE CANNOT BE SEEN. I HAVE NOT PULLED YOU INTO A DREAM FOR SOME TIME, SANS, BECAUSE. I NEEDED YOU TO MEET THIS ONE. AND THE TWO OF YOU CAN ONLY MEET HERE. THEY HAVE NO ACCESS TO YOUR MIND.”

_ “Thank goodness.” _

“You keep saying ‘it’ will take work, but what is  _ it,  _ Doc? Just get to the damn  _ point _ already.”

“WHY,” Gaster said, with the air of someone holding a bombshell, “ENDING THE RESETS, OF COURSE.”

Sans stared into the Void. There was a silence.

Then the Void creature started laughing. Sans sighed quietly as the tension left him. Stupid. He was so stupid, thinking Gaster was here to rip him apart again. Gaster hadn’t needed to physically hurt him in ages now. Not when he was so, so good at knowing what buttons to press, at seeing each and every one of Sans’s vulnerabilities. Sans had told him last time not to taunt him with false hope. It seemed all he’d really done was give Gaster more ammunition.

“YOU DO NOT BELIEVE ME.”

_ “Of course we don’t,”  _ they said, still chuckling.  _ “Even Sans isn’t that much of an idiot.” _

Sans sat down, crossing his legs and draping his hands in his lap. There was no point in trying to run or escape, no point in trying to force himself awake. Not much point in listening, either. Between the two of them, there really was nothing he could do. So why even try?

“UNDERSTANDABLE. MISTRUST IS A SYMPTOM. OF DESPAIR.”

_ “Oh, shut up, Mysteryman.”  _ They glanced down at Sans and Sans ignored them.  _ “Learned behavior is not the same thing as despair.” _

“CIRCLES CAN BE BROKEN. THE CYCLE OF RESETS CAN BE STOPPED. BUT THE PROCEDURE. IS VERY. VERY DELICATE. AND TRUST. EVEN A SINGLE GRAIN OF IT. MUST BE HOW IT BEGINS. IT IS WHY THE TWO OF YOU HAD TO MEET. YOU MUST LEARN TO WORK TOGETHER.”

_ “Laughable. And when did I ever say that I wanted an end to the Resets?” _

“DO YOU PLAY-ACT AS THE VILLAIN,” Gaster said sharply, “TO MAKE IT EASIER?”

_ “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me. Now why don’t you leave us alone? I was in the middle of asking Sans an important question when you so rudely interrupted.” _

“HE WILL NOT BE ABLE TO ANSWER. HE DOES NOT KNOW WHERE THAT VERSION OF HIMSELF HAS. GONE. AND BEFORE HE CAN BE FOUND. YOU MUST LISTEN. BOTH OF YOU. SANS. PAY ATTENTION.”

Sans didn’t even look up. It was impossible to tune either of them out entirely, not when there was nothing else around to try and focus on. He had no choice but to hear them both. But that didn’t mean he had to listen.

“SANS.”

Sans closed his eyesockets. Maybe now was the time to wallow in guilt over what he’d done to his brother. At least it would be a distraction.

“REMEMBER WHAT I TOLD YOU.”

_ “He doesn’t want to listen to you, Mysteryman,”  _ the other one snapped, and there was an oddly defensive note in their voice.

“ABOUT MAYBES. REMEMBER?”

Sans shook his head. He couldn’t do this. He had fallen for false hope again and again and again, even though he always denied it at the time, even though he always told himself he had given up, that he wasn’t going to be that stupid again, that he knew how harsh and cruel the world was. He’d always fought so hard, all while telling himself and anyone who would listen that he had already given up. He couldn’t do this again. His soul couldn’t take it.

But he was a monster at heart. Hope was built into him.

“SANS.” The undercurrent of desperation had become full-blown and audible. Gaster was  _ pleading.  _ It was as unsettling as the sorrow had been. “PLEASE. LISTEN TO ME. BOTH OF YOU, LISTEN TO ME. THIS IS HOW IT CAN FINALLY END. THIS IS HOW TO SAVE THE WORLD.”

_ “All you are is talk. You have offered no proof that anything you say is true. He told you to get to the point, and yet you still haven’t gotten there. Were you this much of a fool before you fell into that creation of yours?” _

“AH. PROOF. YES. YES, VERY WISE. I CAN PROVIDE PROOF. IF THE TWO OF YOU FOLLOW MY INSTRUCTIONS. THEN YOU WILL SEE HOW CHANGE CAN BE AFFECTED IN THE REAL WORLD. AND THE NEXT TIME YOU ARE BOTH HERE. I CAN EXPLAIN THE METHOD. IN GREATER DETAIL.”

_ “You haven’t provided  _ any _ details! This is ridiculous.” _

“I AM GOING TO TELL YOU. WHERE SANS HAS GONE.”

_ “That--what?” _

Sans couldn’t help but look up.

“THEY HAVE TRIED SEVERAL TIMES NOW. TO STOP HIM. TO FIND HIM. YES? THAT MUST BE WHY YOU CAME HERE. TO TRY AND ASK HIM HIMSELF. EVEN THOUGH YOU KNOW. THAT THIS PLACE IS OUTSIDE OF THE TIMELINE.”

Their hands balled into fists.

_ “Don’t--don’t presume to know my purpose or intentions.” _

“YOU WILL CONVEY THIS INFORMATION TO THE HUMAN. THEY WILL FOLLOW HIM. WITH LUCK. THEY WILL FIND HIM. THE PROBLEM THEN. WILL BE STOPPING HIM. AS YOU WELL KNOW. SANS IS VERY STUBBORN.”

_ “Golly, and I thought I was long-winded! If you’re going to tell me where he’s gone, then tell me already. How do you even know, anyway?” _

“SANS HAS CLIMBED THE MOUNTAIN.”

Sans blinked and frowned. The Void being turned again to stare down at him, and Sans could practically feel the disdain radiating off of them.

_ “Copycat,” _ they muttered.  _ “We had guessed, but we never make it up the mountain in time.” _

“I don’t…” Sans shook his head. “I don’t get it. How could I climb the mountain if I’m under…” He stopped. His eyesockets widened. “The Surface? We’re--?”

Sans could remember sunlight, even though he had never seen it. Hadn’t he been thinking that, some time ago, while sitting right here in the darkness, and while standing in the golden hall? Sunlight and trees and wind. Several times. The human had gotten them to the Surface several times, only to rip it away with another Reset.

It felt like walking right into the trap. This was what Gaster had wanted. Now Sans was  _ thinking  _ about it. The Surface. The happy ending. Papyrus would be happy;  _ all  _ of them would be happy. It was everything all of them had ever wanted. He thought of the weary longing in Asgore’s voice when he’d talked about the Surface.

The best possible ending. And yet the Sans that was out there was climbing the mountain. Why? He wouldn’t just leave his brother like that, would he? Surely he wasn’t…surely he  _ couldn’t _ be planning on…

No. There was no way. He’d learned that lesson already. He covered his mouth with a hand, staring straight ahead.

“HOW THEY STOP HIM,” Gaster was saying, “IS UP TO THE HUMAN. BUT SANS. THIS IS WHAT YOU MUST REMEMBER.”

Sans stared up into the darkness. He could feel Gaster watching him.

“TALK TO THEM. AND LISTEN.”

“Oh,” he said emptily. “Is that all.”

He thought of Asgore again. How he’d told the king that he just wanted to talk. And that was what he had done, wasn’t it? He’d--said something to them off-script. Something he’d wanted to say, but for whatever reason, never had until then.

And look what had happened. The world had “crashed,” at least if Gaster was to be believed. He’d reached for something he’d wanted, some kind of answer--and the world itself had stopped him.

“GIVE THEM A MESSAGE.”

“You know, uh.” Sans shot a rueful look at the Void being. “Kinda think the last time we tried that it--didn’t go too well.”

“TELL THEM TO REMEMBER WHAT ASGORE DID. TO THEIR MERCY BUTTON.”

“Their wh…” Sans thought of the strange words the two of them had spoken earlier, the ones that his mind hadn’t even been able to process. “No, you know what, I’m not gonna ask.”

_ “What are you playing at here, Mysteryman?” _

“FOLLOW THESE INSTRUCTIONS. AND THE TIMELINE WILL BE ALTERED. JUST ENOUGH. AND THEN. WE CAN TRULY BEGIN.”

_ “And what’s to stop me from delivering that message to the human myself?” _

“CURIOSITY, I WOULD WAGER.”

They were quiet for a moment, except for a barely audible grumbling sound.

_ “Why should we listen to you?” _

“Because we don’t have a choice now,” Sans said, dropping his gaze back to the floor. “He said it, so there’s a good chance I’ll remember it. Can’t choose what I remember.”

Sans heaved a sigh and dragged himself very slowly back to his feet. He’d walked right into the trap. But that didn’t mean he had to buy into any of this. Even if he remembered this, it wasn’t like he had to follow through.

Even if some part of him wanted to. Hadn’t he been thinking before about just how badly he wanted to talk?

_ “I see,”  _ they said at length.  _ “Clever. Very clever. What an excellent manipulator he is.” _

“It’s what he’s best at.”

_ “Is he the one you learned it from?” _

Sans didn’t answer.

“AND SANS.”

“God, now what.”

The Void was starting to flicker at the edges, going from black to gray. The Reset. Finally. Finally, he could wake up and try to put all of this out of his mind.

“DO NOT GO OFF-SCRIPT AGAIN.”

“Fine.”

“THERE ARE POWERS THAT ARE WATCHING. IF SUCH POWERS WITNESS ANOTHER CRASH. THEN THEY MIGHT SEE FIT TO END THIS WORLD IN A WAY THAT NEITHER. OF YOU CAN COMPREHEND.”

“I said fine.”

_ “And you call me the spooky one.” _

“TALK TO THE HUMAN. LISTEN. GIVE THEM THE MESSAGE.”

“‘Kay.”

There was a final, violent flare of red as the Void faded.

_ “If this doesn’t work, I will kill both of you myself for wasting my time.” _

“AH. AND YET TIME. IS EXACTLY WHAT WE WANT TO WASTE.”

  
  
  
***  
  
  


 

Sans woke up in Snowdin.


	9. Allegory of the Cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans climbs a mountain. Someone follows him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: suicide mention, suicide ideation, implied child abuse, implied trauma

A half an hour into the hike and Sans was already starting to regret his decision. There were limits to his cold resistance. A strong wind was blowing, which made it colder than Snowdin had ever been. It cut right through his bones, actually whistling between his ribs, which was both very unsettling and somewhat painful. Steven had been right about the trails not being well-kept--the snow was piled several inches deep, and the wind had formed drifts that came up to Sans’s knees. His shoes were soaked through.

The trail wasn’t all that steep, but this was more exercise than he’d gotten in…months, probably. He’d done little more than wander around Outside or hide in his room since coming to the Surface. He was breathing heavily and he had to pause every few minutes or so, leaning against a tree or a boulder until he felt like he could move again. He couldn’t pause for too long or the snow would start to freeze between his bones and joints. He was starting to get dizzy as well. It had occurred to him much too late that the only thing he’d eaten all day was a few basic food bars at the hospital. And here he was, hiking up the side of a mountain in the bitter cold.

He should have waited, at least until tomorrow. He could have packed some supplies, snuck some things into his pockets. Maybe even taken an extra coat or something, since his usually trusty hoodie was proving much too thin. But Papyrus might have caught on by then, and the longer he waited, the harder it would be to get away from him.

He just had to make it to the entrance before he dusted. With luck, once he reached the Underground, he’d remember how to teleport. He could go straight to New Home, raid one of the abandoned shops there for food, then pass out. Just so long as he didn’t dust, it would be fine. He doubted he’d live very long after that, but if he died up here, someone might find his clothes, and then Papyrus would find out. That simply wasn’t an option. 

So he trudged forward, teeth gritted, arms wrapped around himself as he tried to keep from shivering. He glanced up at the sky and at the sun sinking toward the far horizon. Logically, he understood how stars and planets and the temperatures thereof worked, but it just didn’t seem  _ fair  _ for it to be this cold when the sun was shining.

The trail wound between thick patches of trees and open ground dotted with high bushes and grass, or the occasional rocky outcropping. The trees and rocks thankfully blocked the worst of the wind, but from what Sans could see of the trail further up, it looked like the trees were starting to thin out. Some of this was vaguely familiar. He thought he could remember rockier terrain closer to the cave entrance. He’d be fully exposed to the wind up there, and at the speed he was going, it would probably be getting dark by then.

He had to try and move faster.

Sans pushed forward, wading through a snowdrift that came up to his waist. There were still a few tracks in the snow from monsters coming in and out, but the wind had done away with a lot of them. There weren’t enough left to make any sort of reliable path for him. He just had to navigate as best as he could from shallow patch to shallow patch.

He paused at the next pile of rocks he found, leaning heavily against them to catch his breath. At least out here in the open, he could easily see the sky and the horizon, which helped to remind him where he was and what he was doing. And why. Looking down into the forest below, he could just barely see the buildings of Outside through the trees. Papyrus was down there somewhere. All of them were down there, people he’d hurt and lied to, timeline after timeline. If the options were to forget about them, to continue hurting them, or to spare them from the burden of having Sans in their lives, then the choice was obvious.

Papyrus wouldn’t have understood if he’d tried to explain it. Of course he wouldn’t. You spend your whole life with a parasite and you start thinking you need it around, that it’s actually part of you. It was better this way. Papyrus would be upset at first, but up here he had friends, a career, a whole support system. He’d be fine eventually.

No one needed something like Sans in their lives. Especially not Papyrus.

Sans’s phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him. He turned away from the view of Outside and leaned back against the stones, digging out his phone. He was surprised that he still got service up here.

Papyrus again. This was the third time. Sans grimaced at his name on the screen and rejected the call, pocketing the phone again with a sigh. It would probably be smart to ditch the phone entirely, but Sans was entertaining the vague idea of maybe calling Papyrus in a few days, once he’d gotten himself situated in the Underground. Assuming he could even call Papyrus from down there. He could at least let Papyrus know that he was alive and doing fine and that could be the last assurance that Papyrus needed to really start to move on.

Then Sans could ditch the phone.

His joints were starting to freeze up again. Sans kept moving forward and upward, dragging himself through the snow. It seemed like it was starting to thin out a little, maybe because there were more tracks up here. He squinted upward. There was a shadow against the mountainside further up that he thought might be the cave. It still seemed so damn far away, but at least he was getting closer. Slowly but surely.

The wind was getting stronger. By the time Sans reached the next patch of trees, he was exhausted and his head was swimming, to the point that he had to actually sit down. He curled into a ball on a stump, head buried under his arms and eyesockets squeezed closed, willing himself to not pass out. He still had so much further to go, and he had to  _ hurry.  _ It might be minutes or hours before someone thought to ask Steven about where Sans had gone. If anyone caught up with him before he made it to the Underground, it would all be over.

His phone buzzed again while he sat and shivered. He ignored it, counting slowly and breathing deep until he felt a bit more alive. He had managed to uncurl himself and his breathing had finally evened out when he felt his phone buzz again.

This time he pulled it out. It was Frisk. Sans squinted at his phone. He had expected maybe Toriel or Undyne to reach out to try and find him, but not Frisk. Frisk was afraid of him at best and hated him at worst. They needed him around even less than Papyrus did. Why would they bother calling?

_ I just want to talk to them. _

The memory hit him hard enough that Sans’s thumb went to hover over the answer button. When had he said that? It wasn’t like it really mattered. It could have been here on the Surface or it could have been some past timeline. His memory was so shot that he couldn’t tell any of it apart anymore.

_ TALK TO THEM. AND LISTEN. _

Sans’s eyesockets widened as he watched the little phone icon shiver back and forth. Gaster. But that was impossible. Sans hadn’t had a single real Gaster dream since they’d reached the Surface--he did remember that much. It felt like years since he’d spoken to Gaster at all. So why was it all suddenly so vivid? He usually remembered Gaster dreams right away, not months or even timelines after the fact.

This had happened before. What he’d said to Frisk the other day…right, that had only been a few days ago. He’d asked them why they’d climbed the mountain, and…why had he asked that? Why had it felt so important? It  _ was  _ important, fundamentally, but it was like some kind of… _ trigger  _ had been left in his mind. And maybe that was the case this time as well. Like Gaster was manipulating him, even across timelines. Or that other strange presence he could barely remember.

_ GIVE THEM A MESSAGE. _

No. Fuck that. Sans glared at his phone and rejected the call. He was done playing Gaster’s games. Nothing Gaster had done or said or forced him to remember had ever really helped anything. All those dreams from before Frisk had arrived had amounted to  _ nothing.  _ Just more stress and anxiety and desperation and an overwhelming sense of failure. No, he was done. None of this mattered anymore. The anomaly was already here, Frisk hated him, and Sans had already decided that he had no place on the Surface. Papyrus would be better off, everyone would be better off. Gaster wasn’t going to manipulate him this time.

Sans switched off his phone and dropped it back in his pocket. Then he got to his feet and kept walking. 

  
  
  


***

 

There were no more trees now. The horizon had become a swath of orange and gold and pink, beautiful enough that Sans had to actively resist being distracted. It was like the world was trying to remind him of all the things he would miss out on.

His mind was a blur. He was pretty sure inertia was the only thing that was keeping him moving. His vision swam, and every so often he stumbled or slid in the snow. It felt like he could fall at any moment, but he refused. If he died up here, Papyrus would truly never forgive him. Frisk might Reset, and all of this would happen again.

It was so cold that Sans’s joints had gone stiff, almost refusing to move entirely. He kept wishing that he had given this a bit more thought, brought warmer clothes, brought some food, anything. His soul felt strained and his bones were starting to feel tight and constricted. He was starving and exhausted. He didn’t even know how much further he had to go. And he was pretty sure he was hallucinating. He kept thinking that someone was calling his name. Maybe Papyrus. Maybe Papyrus was catching up with him.

Sans took another step, aiming for an old footprint in the snow, and missed. His feet went out from under him and he crumpled forward into the snow, landing hard on his hands and knees.

He stayed like that, vision blurring in and out. God, it would be so easy to just lie down here. Just lie down and fall asleep. Take a nap, try to get some of his strength back. But he remembered enough about snow and the cold to know how this worked. If he lay down, he wouldn’t get back up.

It felt like it took hours, sliding his feet forward, getting them back underneath him, forcing his knees to bend and then to hold his weight. His arms shook as he pushed against the ground. He grabbed onto a thick root growing out of the ridge of dirt and rocks next to him and used it to haul himself upright, shaking the whole way. Then he sank sideways against the dirt wall, breathing heavily. Just a moment. He’d just rest a moment, then he’d keep moving. The entrance couldn’t be too far now.

This was stupid.

This was all so stupid. What had he been thinking? Why was he doing this? There had to have been a smarter way. He could have just…called that doctor on his own, gone to the clinic and checked himself in. It was as good a separation from Papyrus as literally returning to the Underground. He could have done literally anything other than climb a mountain with a weakened soul and barely any magic left in him in the dead of winter. Maybe…maybe if he just turned back now…

It was too late. He could barely move as it was.

God, he might really die up here.

His imagination had never been particularly vivid, but he could envision the whole thing now. The wind would scatter his dust all over the mountain. His hoodie would probably get blown away as well, but someone would find it eventually. After days or weeks or months of worrying and wondering, someone would bring his hoodie to Papyrus. He could even imagine the look on his brother’s face. And he  _ had  _ to imagine it, because he had never done this to Papyrus before, never in any timeline. He had never died before his brother. He had never left him alone like that.

No.

No, everything else aside, every way he’d hurt his brother, every stupid decision he’d made--this was the one thing that was truly unforgivable. Sans dying would ruin Papyrus’s life just as much as Papyrus dying ruined Sans’s own life. For all that Sans knew his own worth, and for all that he wondered  _ why,  _ he had  _ never  _ stopped believing that Papyrus loved him. He knew Papyrus loved him; he’d always known. Papyrus could give up on him, could never forgive him, could cut him out of his life, but Papyrus would never stop loving him. Just like Sans could never stop loving Papyrus.

He could leave him. But he refused to die on him.

With a long, drawn-out groan of effort, Sans pushed himself upright. He gritted his teeth, gripping the dirt wall, pulling himself slowly forward. One step. Then another. Then another. Until he could let go of the wall and walk on his own, one slow, agonizing step at a time. He wasn’t going to die. He wasn’t.

He tried to put everything out of his mind, concentrating only on moving forward, one step at a time. He didn’t think about the cold or the hunger. He didn’t think about the wind or the strange way it seemed to be calling his name. He didn’t think about Outside or Papyrus or the Surface at all. He only thought about moving his feet. Step. Step. Step.

“Sans!”

The entrance couldn’t be too far now. Getting there was the only thing that mattered. He’d reach the cave, and he’d survive, and then he’d find a way to let Papyrus know that he was safe. Papyrus would keep looking for him, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry as much.

“Sans, wait!”

Once he was out of the wind and a little warmer, he could finally rest. Then tomorrow he could head into New Home. There’d be food somewhere in there. He just had to get out of the wind first.

“Sans!”

At this rate, the wind might drive him crazy before it killed him. He could swear he could hear…

Sans stopped short, grabbing at a dead bush for purchase. He turned and looked back over his shoulder, eyesockets wide.

A small figure was coming up the path behind him, maybe a dozen yards back. They were powering through the snow like it was barely an obstacle, even though it came up almost to their knees. They were dressed for the weather, bundled up in a parka, a scarf whipping behind them in the wind. In the dimming light, Sans could just make out their face.

“Frisk…?”

They started moving faster, almost jogging. Terror surged through Sans, making his eyelights wink out.

“Sans! Stop!”

“Kid, you can’t…” his voice was hoarse, barely audible over the wind. “Y-You can’t be up here, why are you up here…?”

They drew level with him and skidded to a stop, panting and red in the face, like they’d run the entire way. They looked up at him, eyes wide and staring and almost brimming over with relief.

“I found you,” they said between gasps for air, “I finally found you.”

“Why are you  _ here?  _ How did you even…?”

“I-I came looking for, for you,” Frisk said, still panting, sweeping a few stray hairs out of their face. “Y-You ran away and I never, I-I’ve never been able to--everyone’s looking everywhere for you.”

Why? Why had  _ Frisk _ come after him, of all people? They  _ hated  _ him. He was sure they hated him. And how had they known he was climbing the mountain? And how on  _ earth  _ had they managed to catch up to him?

“Frisk…”

They reached out and caught hold of his wrist with both hands.

“We h-have to go back. Please, Papyrus is s-so worried. We, we need to go back, okay?”

Sans turned and looked back up the mountain. He thought he could see the entrance, not far away now, just barely illuminated by the setting sun.

“I can’t, kid.” He tried to tug his wrist free but they didn’t let go. “I can’t go back.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t. Just let go, okay?” He shivered as a sudden gust of wind blew across the face of the mountain. “Seriously, Frisk, if I’m cold you must be  _ freezing. _ You need to go back before you get sick or worse.”

“I’m not, I’m not leaving without you,” Frisk said, shaking their head hard. “Y-You need to be here with us. You can’t--you can’t just--you can’t just d-disappear. I won’t--I won’t let you.”

“Let  _ go,”  _ Sans said, trying to tug free again. He took a step back and Frisk simply followed. They shook their head harder this time.

“Sans, you have to  _ be _ here. You, you have to be here and alive and, and everyone needs you, okay? And Papyrus needs you, and Mom needs you, and I need you cause, th-this is the happy ending and it’s not the happy ending if anyone dies, okay?”

Sans stared at them, reeling from exhaustion and the impact of their words.

“I…Frisk, I didn’t…I’m not up here to die…”

He watched their expression go from scared to worried to Determined in the blink of an eye.

“Disappearing is  _ the same thing.” _

He gritted his teeth. “Frisk, just  _ let me go.” _

“No. Not until you agree to c-come home.”

He tugged harder, but the sudden movement just made him dizzier. Frisk’s grip was like iron.

“It’s not home.”

“What? How come?”

“I don’t  _ belong _ up here, kid, I can’t even… Frisk, please.”

“But I can fix it,” they said, voice shaking. “Whatever it is, I c-can fix it. I always fix it. I saved everyone else so I can s-save you too.”

“You can’t save  _ everyone.” _

They flinched as if he’d slapped them, ducking their head, no longer able to meet his eyelights. Sans gave an experimental step backward, but they still weren’t letting go.

“I want to,” they said, barely whispering.

He stared at them. Their expression was the one of blank, Determined neutrality that he’d become so familiar with in the Underground, but there was hurt in their eyes. He flexed his hand. He could turn their soul blue, shove them away and make a break for it if he was fast enough. But he would only be hurting them more than he already had--and if hurt could break their Determination, they never would have made it through the Underground in the first place. 

He wasn’t even sure he had the magic for it, anyway. 

“Frisk…”

Another sudden gust of wind blasted across the mountain, making Sans wince and curl in on himself, shifting his feet so as not to fall over. He felt Frisk’s grip on him tighten reflexively. It was then that he noticed how red their face was, how much they were shivering.

They’d followed him up this godforsaken mountain to try and save him, and now they might freeze to death in the attempt. 

Sans bit back a curse. There was nothing he could do to try and warm them up, and he couldn’t just teleport them back down the mountain. Even if his memory had been working properly, there was no way he had enough magic for it. He looked back again, toward where he thought the cave entrance was.

“We…we have to get out of this wind,” he said, turning back to Frisk. “We’re both gonna die if we stay out in this. Look, the cave isn’t too far. We’ll be out of the wind, and it should be warmer. Maybe we can make it down to the palace.”

“I’m not letting you go,” Frisk said again, as firmly as before.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” Sans said with an exhausted sigh. “But I can’t let you turn into a Frisk-sicle, either. Come on.”

He turned and began trudging up the mountain again, expecting them to follow. They dragged themself behind him, not releasing his wrist. The dizziness wasn’t as bad now, though his soul was starting to tremble in a dangerous way. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t let Frisk die up here, any more than he could let himself die. Just a few dozen more yards. Then they’d both be safe for a little while. Long enough for him to think of a way to get Frisk back to Outside without him.

The sun had gone down. Sans could feel ice around his patellas, crunching painfully with every step. He thought his feet might be frozen as well. That didn’t matter either. Bones could thaw; he didn’t know enough about humans to know whether flesh could thaw. But he could remember it, ages ago now, staring down at a little human girl, frozen to death in the snow. Her skin had gone pale blue, like the soul that had been hovering above her still form.

He swayed a little as the dizziness crept back, stumbling to one side.

“Sans?”

“I’m okay,” he said, raising his voice as wind blasted through. “Just tired.”

Distantly, he thought of Toriel. That old, stupid promise. Seemed a little late to bother trying to keep it. He’d never lifted a finger to protect Frisk in the Underground--he’d watched and done nothing. Funny how the only time he could be counted on to try and help a child was when he literally had no choice. They wouldn’t let go. Couldn’t outrun them, couldn’t teleport, couldn’t just hurl them back down the mountain. Couldn’t stop seeing that little girl facedown in the snow. Couldn’t…

He stumbled again, almost going over. Frisk made a startled sound and moved, coming up beside him. They shifted their grip on his wrist so they could get his arm around their shoulders, bracing him upright.

“C-Come on,” they said, their breathing ragged. “I can see it ahead, i-it’s not far.”

“I can walk,” Sans muttered, his head starting to loll. “I gotta…”

He gritted his teeth and forced himself forward, trying not to lean too much on Frisk. He could feel them shivering. Snow was caked on their pants and boots, and each step they took was slow and laborious. It was getting harder and harder to think straight. It felt strange to worry about them. If they died, they could just Reset, right? It would be his fault. If they died up here, it would be his fault, and that…that wasn’t supposed to happen, not in any of the timelines except for one. Only one. But even guilt didn’t matter. He could handle guilt. It wasn’t like he’d even remember this.

That little girl in the snow. She couldn’t have been that much younger than Frisk; maybe only a few years. Monster bullets were quick. Freezing took awhile. She’d been just a kid. And Frisk, they were just a kid too. Right?

Sans’s vision was swimming, but there was a cliff face up ahead, and a shadowed part rimmed in orange from the last rays of the sun. There. That had to be it. So close. Just a few more feet. He felt Frisk slip a little in the snow. Or was that him? The wind howled as it blew past the cave entrance, sounding like something dying. He thought Frisk might be saying something but he couldn’t hear them. There was just his feet moving through the snow. Step. Step. Step.

His feet hit bare stone.

The wind died down, and the change in temperature was almost instant. Sans could feel himself still moving forward, deeper into the cave, past the edge of where the snow had blown in, could feel himself being steered toward a dark shape that must have been the wall. And then he was leaning against it, almost sliding down the stone, breathing heavily. Frisk was still holding his arm.

“Made it,” he heard himself say.

Only then did he let himself crumple, sliding down the wall to the stone floor. They’d made it. They were safe. 

For awhile, everything was dark.

  
  
  
  


 

Sans came back to himself when he saw an orange glow filtering through his closed eyesockets. Slowly he cracked them open, taking in his surroundings through blurry eyelights. He was sitting back against the wall of the cave, and a very small fire was burning a few feet away, giving off glorious heat. Sans frowned at it. He was pretty sure he had no idea how to build a fire, so that must have been Frisk. Their jacket was spread across him like a blanket, which was distantly alarming. He shifted his head a little, trying to look back toward the cave entrance, but his eyelights just wouldn’t focus. The entrance was out of sight, but he could still hear the wind howling not far away.

“Oh, oh good,” came Frisk’s voice from closer by. “You’re awake.”

He turned the other way. Frisk was sitting at an angle to him, near the fire, hands stretched out toward the flames. They scooted closer to him.

“Crap,” he said, and his voice came out rasping. The magic that let him speak felt weak and raw. “How long ‘s I out?”

“Only a f-few minutes,” Frisk said. “Your, your ATK and DEF are b-both still at 0.”

“Oh.” That explained why he felt like his soul was shrivelling away inside him. He blinked at the tiny dancing flames. “How’d you build a fire?”

“There’s lots of dead bushes outside. And, and I have matches. Um. Um, don’t tell Mom. She doesn’t like that, that I have them.”

Sans shifted a little, frowning at the jacket covering him. Frisk was wearing their usual blue and purple sweater, but he knew it was much too thin for this weather.

“Y’ need your jacket back,” he said dimly.

“You needed it m-more,” Frisk said, and he noticed they weren’t shivering. “Um, and it’s. It’s a survival thing. When you sweat and it’s cold out. I. Used to watch a lot of, of survival shows.”

Sans had no idea what any of that meant, but if they weren’t going to take their jacket back, there wasn’t much he could do. With a wince, he realized that his knees and ankles were frozen almost solid. He wouldn’t be able to move at all until he thawed.

“You need to eat,” Frisk said. They shifted closer to him and held out a hand. Something appeared into their hand out of their inventory. Sans blinked slowly. It looked and smelled like a hotdog. Or, no, not a real hotdog. A fried water sausage in a bun, topped with ketchup and mustard.

“Is…that one of mine?”

“Mm-hmm. I’ve got lots of stuff in my inventory still from then. From back then. Mostly food.”

Sans stared at the hotdog, feeling strangely wistful. He smiled a little.

“Heh, remember the other day, when I stacked ‘em on your head? And you balanced ‘em for a bit, but then you ran around and they went flying all over? Heh. Didn’t know hotdogs bounced that good. You were smilin’ so big. What’d we get to…thirty, I think?”

They made a soft, amused sound, quiet enough that he almost missed it.

“Yeah. Thirty.”

“That was good,” he said absently, watching the hotdog blur in and out with his vision. “One of the nice ones.”

“Y-You, you need to eat,” they said again, fear and Determination back in their voice. “Please.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve got other stuff,” they said, pushing the hotdog closer to him. “Please, Sans?”

He stifled a sigh. No point in resisting. No point in trying to just embrace the inevitable. He reached out, slowly so as not to bother his joints too much, and took the hotdog. It smelled so much better than he remembered and all at once he realized that he was absolutely starving. He raised the hotdog to his mouth and took a bite.

The warmth of the magic flooded him in an instant. It wasn’t enough to bring his stats back up right away, but he felt his soul relax and brighten, just slightly. It no longer felt like it could shatter at any moment. Warmth crept through his bones, loosening some of his joints, letting more heat from the fire in. Sans focused on the feeling as he ate.

Frisk had gone quiet beside him, watching intently to make sure he was actually eating. Then they pulled something else out of their inventory and started eating as well. It looked like it might be a slice of pie.

Seemed they were both going to survive for a little while longer.

They ate in silence. Sans finished before Frisk and tipped his head back against the wall, resting his eyesockets again as he felt his soul slowly begin to feel a bit more normal and alive. He listened to the wind still whistling outside and Frisk chewing quietly.

It was a long while before Frisk spoke up again. Sans thought he might have dozed a little in the interim.

“How come you said ‘the other day’ before?”

Sans didn’t open his eyesockets. “Mm?”

“Um. You said the hotdog thing was the other day. But. But it was a few months ago. I’m…was, was it a joke?”

“Oh.”

Right. Right, that. The reason he’d come up here, the reason for all of this. They were on the…they were in the cave, technically, but they were still on the Surface. Everything in the Underground, that had been months ago. He could remember it all so clearly.

“Didn’t Paps tell ya?” Sans grinned wryly, still keeping his eyesockets closed.

“He said you got sick and fe--and collapsed at home.”

Was there any point in trying to hide it, like he hid everything else? The whole plan had fallen apart; not that he’d had much of a plan to begin with. None of it mattered now. He couldn’t even move. And Frisk would find out one way or another, sooner or later.

“It’s, uh.” He paused. This just didn’t come naturally to him. “‘S my memory. It’s all scrambled. Kinda…completely forgot we were on the Surface. My memory just doesn’t wanna work up here. Nothin’ sticks. Couldn’t even remember to eat right. ‘S why I collapsed. Was tryin’ to hide it but…Paps figured it out.”

It was clearing up a little. The stairs, the clinic, the doctor. The way Papyrus had looked at him.

And the other thing. The real reason he’d climbed the mountain. The lie he’d told in some other timeline.

“That’s…that’s why you’re up here?”

“Sorta.” He couldn’t tell them the other reason, the thing he wasn’t supposed to remember. “I meant what I said earlier. I didn’t come up here to die. Wasn’t like that. Just…if I can’t function up here, what’s the point? Can’t put Papyrus through that. Can’t let him just…throw his life away so he can look after me.”

Frisk made a sound like they had huffed through their nose.

“But. But it doesn’t have to be like that. Ev-Everyone could help you. Not just Papyrus. And, and maybe it’s not permanent. Maybe we can fix it. I can--I can fix a lot of things. Do you know why it’s happening? The memory stuff?”

Sans didn’t answer, keeping his eyesockets closed. Papyrus had said pretty much the same thing, but it sounded an awful lot like spreading the misery around. Why should the likes of Frisk and Toriel and Alphys have to look after Sans as well, on top of Papyrus? Hadn’t he been enough of a burden already? They all had much more important things to do than worry about some trash heap of a monster who couldn’t function like normal.

And what was he going to say to Frisk, anyway? Was he going to just tell the kid who could Reset that Resets had finally driven him crazy? He could feel them watching him. Could practically hear the gears turning in their head. They weren’t stupid. They were figuring it out. Even when he said nothing at all, it didn’t matter. He felt it as they slowly went rigid beside him.

“Is it…”

Their voice sounded strange, dry and choked, like they could barely speak. Sans cracked his eyesockets open and glanced over at them. They were hugging their knees and staring into the flames, eyes wide with horror.

“Is it my fault?” they whispered.

Sans stared at them.

They’d both talked around it before. He’d given them the key to his room, and from there, they must have found the key to the basement. But Frisk had never asked him about it. And he had never asked them. Sans looked past them, to the darkening world out beyond the edge of the cave, out where the Surface was. His vision had cleared enough that he could see it now, a few yards away. Then he turned, peering down the tunnel back into the Underground, until it bent off into darkness.

He couldn’t go either way. Not with frozen joints. Not with stats at zero. Nowhere to go. The wall was coming down, and there was nowhere left to hide.

_ Talk to them and listen. _ If he answered, if he answered truthfully, would it even be a real choice? Or would it just be Gaster speaking through him, using him as a path into the real world, like he always had? Were  _ any _ of his choices his own? Maybe even climbing this stupid mountain had been pre-programmed into him.

Who was he to deny programming?

“I don’t know,” he said finally, stalling. He wasn’t looking at them. He was still staring off into the darkness further in the cave.

There was a rustle of fabric as Frisk hunched in on themselves. Sans sighed quietly.

“I really don’t.”

“Can. You at least look at me when you. S-Say so.”

He turned. They had huddled into a tight ball, every line of them taut and tense, coiled like a spring, ready to dodge. They were watching him sidelong, eyes wary.

He met their gaze. There was tired resignation, beneath the wariness, beneath the Determination. They were exhausted. As exhausted as he was. This was it, then. This had to be it. Maybe they owed it to each other. Or maybe they were both just tired of playing games.

Sans realized that some part of him had already made the decision. 

“How…how ‘bout we make a deal, kid,” he said, studying their face. “We’re kind stuck here for a bit. Howzabout we just…talk. Just while we’re here. No bullsh…no messing around, no games. No more lies. I’m too tired for it. Kinda think you are too. Just. Make it simple on ourselves for once. Just for now. Yeah?”

They stared back at him, brow furrowing. They glanced away, chewing their lip, eyes flickering as they had some kind of internal debate. Eventually they turned back to him.

“Sh-Shake on it?”

Sans untucked one of his hands, wincing at the way his arm joints creaked. It was slow, but he managed to extend his hand toward them. They watched his hand very closely, like he might be holding a weapon. Or perhaps a whoopee cushion. Then they reached out and took his hand. He shook it carefully. They frowned in surprise, like they’d been expecting a trick. Some bit of tension in them disappeared. He released their hand after only a moment. They didn’t really like to be touched--he could remember that part. And with someone as untrustworthy as Sans…well, no wonder they’d been hesitant.

But there it was. No turning back now. God, they were really going to do this. He was really going to do exactly as Gaster wanted, as if he hadn’t learned that lesson over and over and over already. And if he was doing this for his own sake, or for Frisk’s, was there any real way to know for sure? Was there a way to know anything at all?

He draped his hands over his knees.

“I don’t know,” he said, slow and careful, turning again to watch the flames. “I don’t know how much of it was…you. Before you, the flower was doing something. Don’t remember what, but…probably the same as you. And before that…”

He started chuckling, the sound echoing in the tunnel.

“My head’s been a mess for a long time now, kiddo,” he said, grinning emptily. “I act like I know everything, but it’s an act. I was…for a long time, I was desperate to figure out what the hell was going on, so I just kinda--got good at piecing things together. Like puttin’ together a puzzle with half the pieces missing. I’d have a weird dream, or a weird feeling. Started with remembering things I shouldn’t…heh, now I’m forgettin’ things I shouldn’t. Guess it was only a matter of time till I couldn’t tell what was even real anymore.”

He tipped his head back against the cave wall again, shivering as a gust of wind found its way in.

“I’m s…” Frisk cut themselves off, biting their lip hard. Sans watched them. They swallowed and huddled even further into themselves.

“I didn’t know it was like that,” they said after a moment. “I…kind of thought you. You remembered everything.”

“Only bits.” He shook his head a little. “Enough to know somethin’s wrong. Enough to guess. I can sorta feel it when a…Reset happens.”

They tensed at the word.

“What does it feel like?”

“Like missin’ a step on a flight of stairs. Like forgettin’ something, losin’ time. That’s why I ignored this whole…amnesia thing up here for so long. Cause it felt like normal.”

He fell silent. For awhile, Frisk didn’t answer, sitting rigid, eyes wide and staring at nothing. It seemed like they were thinking about something.

“Do you,” they paused, swallowed, tried again. “Do you remember…other…times?”

This would have been impossible if he was less exhausted, less out of it. It would have been insurmountable. And yet the words came almost easily, spilling out of him, even when he tried to hold back. Defenseless in all possible ways. On the bright side, being this tired meant he couldn’t ramble.

He raised a hand to his forehead, eyesockets half-closed.

“Sometimes,” he answered. “Bits of them. Usually it’s not vivid or detailed. It’s just a sorta understanding.”

He didn’t look at them.

“There’s ones where you kill Papyrus, isn’t there.” 

He couldn’t. Couldn’t bring himself to look.

“Yes,” he heard them say.

It should have hurt more. Knowing for sure, finally hearing an answer. It should have  _ hurt.  _ But all he could do was sigh.

“There’s ones where you kill all of us.”

“Yes.”

“And this isn’t the first time we’ve been to the Surface.”

They paused a beat, then, “It’s the fourth.”

Sans didn’t look at anything.

“I see,” he said.

They were both quiet for awhile.

“Aren’t you angry?” Frisk whispered.

“A little,” he said, because he was being honest. “But not really.”

“Wh--why not?”

“Anger’s too much effort,” he said with a vague, resigned shrug. “Too tired. Sounds melodramatic, but I guess I’m just…used to it. Things going wrong. This is the best possible timeline and things still went wrong. Best I can do is make sure they only go wrong for me and not anyone else.”

“But--but it’s  _ not _ the best timeline if you’re not here, and--and you  _ should _ be angry at me. I killed people…o-over and over.”

“Not in this timeline,” he pointed out.

_ “So what?”  _ they said, a little louder. “Doesn’t that m-make it worse? Aren’t--aren’t I just pretending to be good? You haven’t even asked me  _ why  _ I did it.”

“Does it matter?” An edge came to his voice. “Is there any reason you could give that would make it okay? You could call it self-defense or an accident while you were in the Ruins or on your way to Snowdin, but Papyrus? There was--there’s no possible reason to kill him. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Yes he would,” Frisk said, plainly, as if they were stating a fact. He turned enough to give them an incredulous look.

“Excuse me?”

“He did hurt me,” Frisk said, pressing their forehead to their knees. “Everyone did. Everyone. I always got the first move, but n-no matter what, what I did, even if I just said hi, or, or complimented someone, they attacked me right away. Everyone. Even Mom. Even Papyrus. Even Alphys, even though I didn’t fight her. All of you did.”

Sans stared at them, defensiveness starting to give way to shock. He’d never…he had never considered that. But it had to be true, didn’t it? Of course he’d seen them fight before, watching from a distance or a safe spot, never intervening. A monster seeing a strange creature coming through the Underground, even if they didn’t know it was a human--of course they’d use monster bullets. Bullets weren’t always designed to hurt, but a human had none of the magical safeguards that monsters did. Monster bullets went straight for a human’s soul, whether it was a true attack or a mock battle or some form of communication. And any monsters who had seen Frisk and known they were a human? Six souls, with Frisk’s being the seventh. The entire Underground had been out for blood, with freedom finally within reach.

Even Papyrus. All his talk of capturing a human, joining the Royal Guard, becoming popular. He hadn’t really understood what capturing Frisk would actually entail, but did that matter? Sans had caught the last few minutes of that fight. Frisk had been uncannily good at dodging, but some of those bones had hit them. Sans had seen bruises. Hadn’t that been one of the reasons he’d decided to take them to lunch afterward? Get some monster food in them, heal them up? Interrogate them while he was at it?

He realized suddenly that he had never actually seen them take a single bite of their burger that day.

God. They’d trudged their way through the entire Underground, with almost every single monster they met trying to kill them. Suddenly it seemed like a miracle that timelines like this, where they didn’t kill anyone at all, even existed.

“So…that’s why you did it?” he asked softly. “That’s why you killed us in those other timelines? Cause we deserved it for hurting you? Papyrus deserved it?”

“No.” They shook their head fiercely and reached up to grip their face. “No. I never did it cause anyone deserved it.  _ I’m _ the one who deserves it. But I forgot that sometimes. I’d forget that, and I’d get angry or curious or. Or I’d stop feeling anything. Or I’d just want it to be quiet. Or I just wanted to see what would happen. Or I was testing something. Looking for something. There were. Lots of reasons. But not real ones. Not good ones. It was accidents at first, but. But eventually it wasn’t accidents anymore. I get why everyone tried to hurt me. I was the Seventh Soul. And, it wasn’t fair. That everyone was stuck underground. Just cause of a dumb war a million years ago. I even thought…I…um, Undyne, when I fight her, she says something like, I should just die to make up for it. And a couple times, I thought, shouldn’t I? So, sometimes I’d let bullets hit me. Sometimes I’d…”

It hit Sans like a freight train. He’d asked them the other day, hadn’t he? For whatever reason he’d asked it, for their sake or because someone had told him to ask. He’d asked them why they’d climbed the mountain, why they would climb a mountain that made people disappear. They’d followed him up here, and one of the first things they’d said to him was that he couldn’t just die. That disappearing was the same thing as killing himself.

They were a kid. Kids weren’t supposed to even know about things like that. Suicide wasn’t supposed to be a thing that ever occurred to a kid.

“But it wouldn’t matter,” Frisk said. Their voice was muffled by their knees. “Even when I didn’t want to come back. I’d come back anyway. I had no choice. I just want it to be over, but it’s not gonna be over. Whether I’m good or. Or bad. It doesn’t matter in the end. Cause it never stops. I’m being punished.”

“Frisk…”

“I’ve never told anyone this. I shouldn’t be telling you this. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, it’s--it’s okay.”

“Just, please d-don’t tell anyone, please. Please? M-Mom thinks I just fell. Everyone does. No one can know. That’s, that’s why I got so scared, when y-y-you asked before, about. Why I cl-climbed. You can tell about me k-killing people if y-you want, but the, the other thing, please. Please don’t--don’t--t-tell.”

“I won’t,” he said, and stopped himself before he could promise. They’d never believe him if he made it into a promise. “I won’t tell anyone. Any of it.”

They fell silent, face pressed into their knees. Sans shifted a little, thinking of maybe at least putting his hand on their shoulder. But no. They didn’t like to be touched.

“Kid, why…why do you think you’re being punished?” He couldn’t quite keep the horror out of his voice. “Why do you think you deserve it? You’re a kid, no kid deserves something like that. And…I think I’m missing something here. You control the Resets, so can’t you just--stop? It’d be over if you just--picked a good timeline and stopped there.”

They made a miserable little sound against their knees. He waited for them to answer, but they stayed silent. He watched them closely, frowning a little.

“Frisk?”

Another quiet, choked sound. They shook their head. Sans sighed quietly.

“Done talking, huh?”

They lifted their head a little and shook it again, looking over at him, expression plaintive. Their mouth worked for a few moments.

“Talking’s--hard.” They said it like it was a struggle just to get the words out. “Can’t sometimes.”

“Oh. Oh, okay. Sorry. Uh. Deep breaths, alright?”

There was no point in pressing, at least not right now. And maybe a part of him didn’t want to press at all. More answers he wasn’t sure he really wanted. Little kids weren’t supposed to consider suicide, and little kids weren’t supposed to think that the world and everyone around them was punishing them. Little kids weren’t supposed to kill people.

He was quiet for a bit, thinking about everything they’d said. He should have thought of all of this sooner. If he’d asked them sooner why they’d climbed the mountain, if he’d asked them why they were Resetting, if he’d asked any questions that were actually important…

“Are you…okay with listening, then?” he asked after awhile. “Cause you’ve said a lot. Think it’s my turn, yeah?”

Their eyes searched his face. He wasn’t sure what they were looking for, but after a moment, they nodded.

“I…Frisk, I’m sorry,” he said at length. “I guess I…never realized what it was like for you. I never asked. Just made a lot of assumptions. Along the way I just started thinking, with the Resets and the bad timelines…I figured you just didn’t care about us. I was already tired before you showed up, and when you did I just. Wasn’t willing to try anymore. Tried to just tell jokes and keep you happy, but gave up on anything that woulda mattered. I think I ended up just…treating you like a potential threat. And not really like a person.”

He paused, trying to parse his thoughts. They were watching him, intent. The wind was still howling outside, and Sans shivered. His joints were slowly thawing, but it was still very cold in the cave. The tiny fire was starting to die.

“You said before that there were…lots of reasons, for why you hurt us, and lots of reasons for why monsters hurt you. Not good reasons. I don’t think there’s ever a good reason to kill someone. But there’s…something to be said for the fact that you still gave us good timelines. Right? We got the happy ending this time. You chose that. You chose to be good and to give us the best ending. Even though we’d hurt you so much. Even though you coulda chosen the other way.”

It had to count for something. Sans vaguely thought of a conversation he’d had, in some timeline or another. He couldn’t remember who he’d been talking to, but they’d been talking about Frisk. He’d said that Frisk, at least, should have had time enough to know the difference between right and wrong. The other person had answered that sometimes it just wasn’t that simple.

Sans was getting a better picture of Frisk now. They were a troubled kid. They had deeply unsettling ideas about themself and about the world. Why should it be expected for a kid like that to always make the right decision, especially when they had the power to rewrite time? It wasn’t like they’d asked for that power, right? And powers like that didn’t come with an instruction manual. Sans thought back to how long it had taken him to learn how to teleport, and to learn how to control his new surplus of magic.

They moved beside him, unfolding themselves a little. He watched them take several slow, deep breaths, moving their mouth carefully. It seemed like they were trying to calm themself down.

They started talking again, slow and halting. “But. You’re right. There’s, there’s no good. Reason to kill people. You always, um. Kind of reminded me of that?”

“What? When?”

They drew another slow breath.

“I, the first time. The very first time, it, it was an accident. And you met me in the golden hall. And you said. I must have killed a. A bunch of people. On purpose. But I didn’t. Just one person. It was on accident. It really was.”

“Frisk--”

He started to answer, but then he remembered something. Someone had said this before. Someone in one of those dreams he had in between Resets. Gaster, maybe? Or that strange…other presence. They had said that it was  _ easy  _ for a human to kill a monster by accident.

And it was true, wasn’t it? Monsters had magic. Humans had everything else. 

“I, I was trying to be good. But if you try to be good and make a mistake. You’re not good. You don’t get the happy ending. I’ve always known. That. Like when people say. ‘If you were really sorry you wouldn’t. Have done it in the first place.’ So. I must not really be sorry. Or good. And, and now I made you climb up here too, because I made your memory bad.”

“What? Frisk, no.” He very carefully nudged his shoulder against them. They didn’t flinch. “Listen. I’m not up here cause of you. You didn’t wreck my memory.”

“I made it  _ worse,” _ they said.

“I dunno. Maybe. But it’s…what’s done is done. If we’ve been on the Surface before…has this happened? Me climbing the mountain like this?”

They were quiet for a bit before answering, still in that slow way of theirs. “Yes. I think so. I didn’t know you’d climbed the mountain, though. I just knew you’d. Disappeared. I thought--maybe--”

They didn’t finish. They didn’t really need to.

“Anyway.” He shook his head again, trying to focus. “Point being, this memory thing…it’s an established part of the timeline now.”

“Huh?”

“I mean it’s one of the things that doesn’t change. It’s built in. Like, uh. Like me meeting you in the golden hall. Cause I always do that, right? Or meeting you at the bridge in Snowdin. Or like the script itself--yanno, the words we all say, over and over. Stuff like that doesn’t change. So…whether your Resets affected me like that or not, it doesn’t…really matter. It’s set in stone. And if it’s already happened, then--well, no sense crying over spilled ketchup, I figure. If we tried to pick out what percentage of all this was caused by your Resets…I mean, it’d be impossible, and it just wouldn’t even matter in the end. And it’s still not why I’m up here. Kid, I’ve always been a screw-up, since way, way before I met you. I’ve made so many mistakes. I’ve made mistakes that’ve gotten people killed. I’ve done some…pretty awful things. So--yanno. Maybe I’m not the best judge of character. Maybe it shouldn’t have been me in that hall, talking at you. Someone else mighta…known the right things to say.”

He looked over at them again.

“Just cause you did bad doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. My brother always says that even the worst person can change, yanno? So doing something bad…whether it was an accident or intentional, you still--you have the power to go back and fix it. And that’s what you did. Choosing to get us all to the Surface this time, that…that’s gotta count for something. Choosing to come after me, when I sure as hell didn’t deserve it. I might not like Resets much, and--I guess I don’t know how many of these we’ve been through, and I kinda--don’t wanna know. But. If my brother’s right and even the worst person can change…well, I don’t think you’re the worst person. I’ve met people much worse than you and…”

He trailed off. He honestly wasn’t sure whether he could say for sure whether Gaster had changed for the better. Frisk shook their head and didn’t answer. Sans looked away again, shivering as another gust of wind found its way into the cave. The flame was starting to gutter.

“I guess my point is, there’s no reason you can’t be forgiven. Someone who frees monsterkind can’t be irredeemable.”

“You don’t know me,” they whispered.

“Yeah,” he said, tipping his head back against the wall of the cave again. “Think that’s part of the problem.”

“I don’t…” They paused, chewing their lip. “I don’t even know if I’m sorry.”

He glanced over at them but didn’t speak, waiting. They were like him in at least one way--it took them awhile to work up to honesty. And if they had a hard time talking at all, then it was that much more difficult for them.

“Every, every time I’ve said ‘sorry’ to you, you haven’t believed me,” they said after awhile. “I. I say it so much. To people or. Or in my head. It’s like the word doesn’t mean anything anymore. Like I’m not really sorry. And. I don’t know anymore. If I’m sorry or not. And you, you never believe me anyway. And the others don’t always know what I’m s-saying it for. So they just say ‘it’s okay’ and it doesn’t mean anything, either.”

Sans frowned a little. He thought of the way Papyrus had looked at him at the clinic. How he’d said he would always forgive Sans, even though he had no idea what he was forgiving. His insistence that they would figure things out.

He thought that maybe he could understand their point. Another way they were alike.

“So we’ve talked about this before?”

“No.” Frisk rubbed tiredly at one eye. “Not really. I’m. Always t-too scared. Of what you’ll say. And you always seem so…so tired, and I didn’t wanna bother you. I don’t really--talk to anyone--about any of this. But I’ve said sorry before. And. You just joke about it. Or, you pretend to not know what I mean. But I can tell you do.”

Sans had no idea what to say. It made sense. That was Sans all around--never taking things seriously, joking around to make things less real and less dangerous. Never trusting anyone. Especially not a kid who could Reset and kill everyone on a whim.

Yet here they both were, being honest against all odds. They could have been lying this entire time, but somehow he didn’t think so. Somehow he trusted what they were saying. How strange. Sans wondered how much longer this would last.

“Trust issues,” he said absently. “Been that way long before you showed up.”

“I know you said you weren’t angry. But. You must hate me so much.”

“That’s my line, kid.”

They looked up at him, startled.

“I don’t hate you,” they said quickly. “I’m…s-scared of you.”

He almost laughed. “Funny. I’m scared of you, too.”

They ducked their head again. Sans mentally kicked himself.

“But, uh…” He raised a hand and flexed his fingers, testing the joints. “When you’re scared of something, learning more about it goes a long way. Maybe I’m wrong, but it seems like we know each other a little better now.”

The looked like that hadn’t actually occurred to them. They blinked, staring into space for a moment as they thought it over.

“I. Think you’re right.”

“Took nearly dying, but guess that’s kinda…people like us in a nutshell. Yeah?”

The corner of their mouth twitched. “Yeah. So you…you really don’t hate me?”

“I don’t. You’re…a complicated kid, Frisk. I’m…I need to think about all this stuff, but…no, I don’t hate you. I think you are sorry, on some level. And I--I don’t think I can forgive you yet, but. Like I keep saying, this timeline counts for something. You got my brother to the Surface. So it’s…it’s tough, I guess.”

They nodded slowly, solemn.

“I…understand. Um. And I should. Do some thinking too.” 

The fire flickered and died. Sans shifted himself, slowly unfolding his legs. They hadn’t thawed entirely, but they could at least move again. He braced a hand against the cave wall, then carefully put his feet under him. His stats weren’t back up yet, and his legs were shaking, but it seemed like he might be able to support his weight. He gathered Frisk’s jacket into his free hand, shifting it off him.

“What are you doing?” Frisk said, watching him struggle and frowning. “You shouldn’t move yet.”

“Think that’s enough heavy conversation for one day. If we can get down to the palace, we can spend the night there,” Sans said, groaning as he tried to stand. He got halfway there before he had to rest. “Too cold here. Tomorrow I can…figure out how to get you home.”

“What? I told you. I’m not leaving you.”

They stood easily, scrambling to take hold of his sleeve again. Sans made no effort to pull away. He held out their coat, and after a few moments of frowning at him, they took it.

“We can figure it out tomorrow.”

“You’ll sneak away as soon as. As I fall asleep.”

Ouch. Maybe getting to know each other had been a bad idea. He gave them his best blank look.

“I won’t fall for, for that,” Frisk said, shaking their head, Determination coming back to their face for what felt like the first time in hours. “We need to go home.”

Sans stayed where he was, halfway to standing, leaning back against the wall. He peered out the cave entrance at the Surface night.

“If I did get away, you’d just Reset, wouldn’t you.”

Frisk didn’t answer. Sans turned away, sighing. He dragged himself the rest of the way upright, using the wall for support. Frisk braced themself under one of his arms to help.

“I can’t go back,” Sans said once he was leaning against the wall again. “I don’t belong up here.”

“You--still haven’t told me why,” Frisk said, hesitantly, like they were afraid of prodding.

He gave them a sidelong look. “You still haven’t told me why you implied earlier that you can’t stop the Resets.”

Their eyes widened a little but they didn’t flinch. That had to be an improvement. He didn’t want to startle them. Scaring them had never worked in the past--and, it seemed, it had been another part of the problem.

They looked away for a moment, chewing their lip, twisting the fabric of his sleeve a little.

“I’ll--I’ll tell if you do,” they said finally.

A trade, then. One last bit of honesty. Was learning more about how Resets worked worth telling them what he’d done?

Maybe they already knew. Someone, somewhere--that thing in his dreams, the thing that wasn’t Gaster. They had already known. They were the one who had told him to remember. It had been a test of some kind, but he couldn’t remember what the test had been for. Did it count as a successful test, then?

Didn’t matter.

“Deal,” he said very quietly.

“Okay,” Frisk said, and he heard them swallow hard. “The--the Resets.”

Sans stayed quiet, letting them work up to it.

“There’s--things I can’t tell you,” Frisk said eventually. “Things I promised not to tell. And. And I don’t want you to think I’m--um--what’s the, the term. Sh…shifting the blame. Because. Everything’s still my fault.”

They fell silent for a bit. Sans eyed them.

“Okay,” he said. It was hard to sound encouraging when he was this worn out. “I won’t think you’re shifting the blame.”

“I.” They made a nervous little sound in the back of their throat. “I don’t--always control the Resets.”

He stared at them.

“What?”

“It’s--not--always me,” they said, looking scared. “I’ve. Sometimes I. Don’t always. Agree with, with--myself, um. Like, there are--parts of me--that--that argue. Or. Pull in other directions. But. Sometimes. Um, all the parts. The parts of me all agree. All the parts of me--if that makes, makes sense--we agree, and we stop. No more Resets. But. Those times. A Reset happens anyway. And it’s not me. Or any part of me that does it.”

“But.” Sans had to pause and rub at his forehead, trying to process. “But that should be impossible. Reset power stems from Determination. From--it can’t just  _ happen.  _ Someone somewhere has to make it happen.”

“I know,” Frisk whispered, huddling in on themself. “That’s--why it--scares me so much. What if--what if there’s someone  _ else? _ ”

Another memory surged through him and he reeled a little. Something Gaster had said.

_ There are powers that are watching. _

“I, I’m telling the truth,” Frisk said softly.

“No, I believe you,” Sans said, finally giving in. “It reminded me of something. I’m, uh. I’m supposed to give you a message.”

Frisk looked up, frowning in surprise.

“Huh?”

“I’m supposed to say…damn, what was it.” Sans felt like sitting down again, but he had a feeling that if he did, he wouldn’t wake up until morning. “Something about…a button.”

“Who--gave you this--message?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sans said, because the last thing in the world that he wanted right now was for Frisk to try and find Gaster. “The Mercy button. You’re supposed to remember what…Asgore did to it. I think.”

“What Asgore…?”

They trailed off, their eyes going distant, then going wide. They gave a quiet gasp.

“So it means something?”

“Yes…” They nodded absently. “I don’t know if…”

“If what?”

They were quiet for a moment, staring into space, expression flickering. Almost like they were having some kind of internal conversation. Eventually, they shook their head.

“I don’t--it might be nothing, but--I need to talk to him. Asgore.”

“Cool. Well, uh. Tell him hey from me when you do.”

There it was. He’d done everything Gaster had wanted. Talked to the human, listened to them, and finally delivered his stupid message. It would be wishful thinking to hope that Gaster would now leave him alone, but maybe at the very least Sans could have some peace for awhile. It was clear now that Gaster had somehow found a way to manipulate and mess with him even across timelines. It should have been more unsettling than it was.

Frisk shook themself out of whatever trance they were in and squinted at him.

“Now it’s your turn.”

“What, that message wasn’t good enough? Don’t you have a king to go talk to?”

They gave him an absolutely stony look. Sans sighed.

“Alright. Fine.”

They watched him, expectant but patient. Sans closed his eyesockets, staring at the darkness inside his skull instead. A thousand terrible things he’d done in one too-long, miserable lifetime, and he only had to admit to one of them. But this one hurt more than most of the others. This was Papyrus. His biggest weak point. It meant being vulnerable, more vulnerable than he could be even with someone he trusted. And if Frisk went bad again, they could use this against him.

If they went bad again.

He didn’t think he had that level of trust in him. But the fact was that it simply wouldn’t matter. None of it had ever mattered. If Frisk themself couldn’t stop the Resets, then this really was going to just continue forever. All of them trapped in a time loop for eternity. At one point, that knowledge would have made him want to just go to sleep and not wake up

_ Circles can be broken. _

Bullshit. False hope to get him to jump as high as Gaster wanted. There was no point in anything at all anymore.

“I--remembered something, from another timeline,” Sans said. “Earlier today, when I was talking to Papyrus, it--triggered something, and I remembered. The one--the one where he becomes king.”

Sans kept his eyesockets closed, but he heard a sharp intake of breath from Frisk.

“Everyone else was dead,” he went on, voice empty. “I lied to him. I told him they were all on vacation. I’ve always been a liar, my whole life. I’ve lied to him about so many things. But this…this was different. The fact that I could do that to him…”

He could see it in his mind. The two of them, alone in a small room he didn’t recognize, Papyrus on the verge of tears, Sans panicking.

“That’s bad enough on its own, but he…he figured it out eventually. I can’t remember how. He figured it out and confronted me. And he told me to leave. He said he couldn’t stand to be around me.”

“Wh--but…”

“Heh. I used to wonder, yanno? If there was a limit. If there was something he just--couldn’t forgive me for. And I found it. I pushed him to that limit. Even if it was a different timeline, the fact that I’m capable at all is… I can’t be trusted around him. I shouldn’t be anywhere near him. He’s willing to sacrifice so much to help me with this memory thing, when I--did something like that to him. I can’t--I can’t do it. I won’t. The only good thing I can do for him is to just--leave, like he wanted. I shoulda done it ages ago. He’ll be so much happier without me dragging him down.”

“That’s  _ wrong,” _ Frisk suddenly hissed.

Sans’s eyesockets snapped open and he turned to glare at them. Frisk was glaring right back.

“How is it wrong? I can’t force him to stay with someone who could do that to him _.  _ This is the best I--”

“He’s  _ not _ happier,” Frisk said through gritted teeth. “I--get it. I understand. But he’s--he’s different. He’s--Papyrus. He’s not happier. He--was crying before. When we, we, we went over earlier. He pretended not, not, to be. But I saw him. He’s scared. And sad. He’s not happier.”

The fact that he’d made his brother cry again was like a kick in the ribs, but Sans couldn’t let that stop him.

“Of course he’d be upset at first, I knew he would be. But he’d get over it eventually. He’d eventually realize--”

“All that stuff you s-said, about, forgiveness, and people changing. You don’t--even really believe it--yourself, do you. You said you w-wouldn’t, wouldn’t lie before.”

“I don’t _ know _ if I believe it, I just--believe in Papyrus, and Papyrus believes it. And this is  _ different.” _

“I’m the one who, who, killed people. I’m the reason he, he became king in that ending. How--is lying about it--worse than what I did? And--you don’t even know if, if he never would have f-f-forgiven you. Just cause you don’t remember--doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

Sans made an exasperated sound. “The timeline ended right afterward.”

“Then--he might have forgiven you.  _ You _ don’t know. Maybe--he just needed time. Maybe he needed to think. Doesn’t--forgiveness take, take time? Right? Being ‘not the greatest person’ doesn’t mean--”

Frisk suddenly seized up, eyes widening and flicking to the side. Their grip tightened on Sans’s sleeve.

“It’s not like I’ll ever know for… Frisk?”

They jerked a little, eyes flicking the other way.

“I  _ know _ it’s different,” they whispered, speaking to the side. “But it’s also…”

“What? What’s different? Frisk, what’s going on?”

Frisk winced a little, ducking their head.

“Sorry,” they said, coming back to themself. “Um. And sorry for y-yelling.”

“It’s…fine. But what was that? What just happened to you?”

“Nothing. Um--we’re talking about you, now. Not me.”

“Frisk, you’re not gonna change my mind. My stats will be back to normal any minute now and then I’m gonna go down to the palace, like I planned. There’s other monsters in there who couldn’t hack it on the Surface either. I’ll just--find them and join them.”

“You’re taking his choice away,” Frisk said, low and angry.

“What?”

“It’s his choice to. To forgive you or not and.” They prodded him gently in the chest. “And you’re taking that away.”

“That--no.” Sans shook his head, taken aback and trying to get his feet back under him. “It’s not a choice if he can’t even remember what I did. It’s like you said before, about when you tell people you’re sorry.”

“It’s different. I’ve never--told anyone what I’ve done. But you could explain it to him,” Frisk pointed out. “How come you never tell him anything?”

“I  _ have _ told him things,” Sans said, gritting his teeth around the unsteady note in his voice. “I’ve tried telling him things, I know I have. And then there’s a Reset and he just forgets. So what’s the point? Why should I put him through that again and again? Why should I just  _ tell him _ that there’s a timeline out there where all his friends die and I lie to him about it? Frisk, he’s--everyone is better off not knowing. Everyone is better off without me.”

They gave him a sorrowful look. For a moment, he thought it was pity. But no. Everything they had done, and everything he had done to them, and they still had the capacity to feel sorrow for him. Because they understood it. They understood being tired, wanting to be done. They understood wanting to disappear. They even understood not knowing what was real anymore.

Sans felt his stats finally click back into place, bringing a little energy back with them. He couldn’t help a sigh of relief. Frisk seemed to notice, their gaze on him flickering a little, relaxing infinitesimally.

“Papyrus. Isn’t just going to get over it. You. You’re his brother. Deep down, you--you must know it.”

Sans didn’t answer. He’d known since he had watched Papyrus walk out of his room. Papyrus wouldn’t be able to move on. He’d never stop searching.

“Sans. I--never got to save you, back…back underground. You were one of the ones I never--had a chance to, except when everyone was Lost. And that was--that was everyone. You only came back then cause Papyrus came back. Sans, I--I want--I really--I want the happy ending. I’m--tired--of this. Doing this. Over and over. I want to s-save everyone. For real. For good.”

“You can’t, kid.”

“I  _ want  _ to,” they insisted, like that was all that mattered.

Maybe to someone as Determined as them, that  _ was _ all that mattered.

“What if we could fix it this time?” Frisk said, looking him right in the eye. “What you said. About Asgore. It means something. And, us talking, it means something. You said this timeline c-counts for something. What if we could fix it?”

“I’m no good at fixing things, kid,” Sans said, what little fight and stubbornness that was left in him vanishing. He sagged where he stood.

“I remember, when you were Lost…you said you had given up. But. That doesn’t mean. Giving up on Papyrus. Does it?”

Sans buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t do this. He just couldn’t do this anymore. He was so, so tired. Tired of talking, of arguing, of being here in this cold cave. Tired of trying to rationalize abandoning his only brother. Because that’s what it boiled down to, didn’t it? Lies and forgiveness and timelines and Resets, none of that mattered. Everything they had been through together, and the thought of abandoning Papyrus would have been inconceivable before today. But that was exactly what he was doing.

What had he been thinking? What the hell had he been thinking? Papyrus would  _ never  _ be alright with this, even if Sans explained every agonizing detail of what he’d done. And Sans suddenly couldn’t face the prospect of never seeing his brother again.

“Even…if I wanted to go back, I don’t know if I can,” Sans said, rubbing his forehead. “My shortcuts--I don’t know if they work on the Surface.”

“Why not?”

“I need to know where I am and where I’m going. If I can’t keep anything straight up here, how can I know where I’m going? I could end up anywhere. The Surface is…it’s too big.”

It was too  _ much. _

“We can, can see Outside from up here,” Frisk said, looking back toward the cave exit. “If we go back out. You can s-see the lights.”

“I don’t know if that’s good enough. My head’s such a mess…I could aim for Outside and end up in Snowdin. Besides, I just got my stats back up. Even trying a shortcut might knock me out cold.”

Frisk changed their grip, holding his wrist instead. They gave a gentle tug, taking a step back toward the exit.

“You can at least look,” they said, and despite themself, they smiled. Very faintly, but it was still a smile. “There’s. Something I want to show you, too.”

“I don’t know…”

“Just come look?”

They tugged again, and he found himself moving forward, trudging along behind them, heading back the way they came. The wind picked up as they both approached the exit. Frisk paused a second to pull their coat back on, not letting go of Sans the whole time.

Frisk stepped out of the cave, and Sans followed, squinting against the harsh wind. He blinked for a moment as they both approached the cliff edge. The world was dark below, though Sans could make out the shapes of trees and the patches of snow. There was a thin pale band along the western horizon where the sunlight hadn’t quite faded.

The lights of the city in the distance were plain to see. But closer than that, lights were peeking up out of the trees. Sans could see lines of them where streets were, and more sporadic ones dotted here and there, windows of monster homes. Outside. The Surface. The town looked tiny compared to the distant city, and both looked microscopic compared to the endless dark of the forest and the wilderness.

It was huge. Impossibly huge.

“I can’t do this,” Sans said without meaning to.

It wasn’t just Papyrus and the lie, he realized. It wasn’t just excising himself from monsterkind, removing a parasite in an attempt to give his brother and his friends a slightly better life. It was this as well. The Surface. The enormity of it all, the endless potential, the infinite threats and dangers that would be impossible to keep track of. Literal billions of humans instead of one every few years. He was so used to the world being much, much smaller, much more predictable, much easier to control. But this was the Surface. Nothing was certain. Nothing was in his control, not even his own mind.

He’d been terrified when he first stepped out of the cave, and he was terrified now.

“I can’t,” he said, and he couldn’t even try not to sound as scared as he was. “It’s all too big.”

“Yeah. I know. When I stepped out here. I was happy, but. I’d. Spent so long trying to--get away from here. I was scared to come back. But. I had Mom and everyone with me. People make things--less scary, I think.”

Sans couldn’t think of how to answer. He stared at his feet so he wouldn’t have to think about how small the town that held all of monsterkind was.

“But, um. Big isn’t always. Bad. You know? Sans, look up.”

Sans looked up, taking in the lights of Outside and the city beyond. He could feel his soul fluttering in agitation.

“No, up,” Frisk said, and there was that little smile again. They pointed upwards. He blinked at them for a moment, confused.

Sans looked up and his soul went still.

Stars. Thousands, millions, bright and clear in the black sky. The glittering patterns of constellations, the river of starlight that stretched from horizon to horizon, a whole arm of the galaxy. Everywhere Sans looked, there were more. Bright and dim, red and yellow and white, clustered together or far apart. There was a sliver of something much brighter and much closer that had to be the moon.

The stars looked nothing at all like a handful of glowing crystals stuck in a cave ceiling.

Sans had read Sagan and Hawking and Greene and Tyson and Kaku. He’d watched  _ Cosmos  _ and  _ Star Trek.  _ He’d seen pictures, of the Hubble Deep Field, the Earth rising over the moon, the Pillars of Creation, the Pluto fly-by. On the bad days of his childhood, when he was too weak to get out of bed, he’d passed time by flipping through all those pictures in the books, until he knew the names of stars and the elements, knew the difference between a galaxy and a nebula. But nothing could have prepared him for the real thing. Nothing in the whole world compared to this.

He had forgotten. He had forgotten that the stars were here. That being on the Surface meant seeing the stars.

He couldn’t look away.

“Frisk,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

“You’ll miss so much if, if you go back underground,” they whispered, looking up as well.

“Yeah. You’re right.” Sans’s eyelights tracked the constellations he was familiar with, that he had only ever seen in books and pictures. He turned in place, wanting to see everything. “It’s…funny.”

“What’s that?”

“That…I dunno. That something so big can make you feel so…I thought seeing it would make me feel small. That’s what everyone says. But it’s…peaceful. I didn’t think it would be this peaceful.”

“Yeah.” Frisk was quiet for a moment, thinking. “It makes you think. But. Not loud thinking. Does. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

A gust of wind blew through, reminding Sans of where they are. With a regretful sigh, he lowered his gaze.

“But, uh. No sense freezing while looking at it all.” He gave Frisk a fragile smile. “It’ll…still be here tomorrow. Right?”

They met his eyelights.

“I hope so.”

“Then. Okay.” Sans sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Okay. I…I think I’m ready to…try.”

They smiled fully this time. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He took another deep breath. “Just hold on tight, okay? Just in case. I’m not sure if this… This, heh, this is kind of a leap of faith thing. Not my specialty.”

They shifted their grip to his hand and squeezed just a little. He squeezed back.

Sans closed his eyesockets. Home. He wanted to go home. Immediately, his mind skated toward Snowdin--the familiar streets and houses, everything in its place. He tried to picture Outside, but the layout was too unfamiliar. He couldn’t remember what was where.

_ Focus,  _ he thought, trying to keep his breathing steady.  _ Focus on Papyrus. _

Papyrus. His brother, whether he forgave Sans or not. The only family that had ever meant anything. Papyrus, on the Surface, in a house they’d designed themselves, in a town that belonged to monsters, under a sky full of stars.

He felt it coalesce in his mind and reached out. The vibration was there, quietly waiting for him. There was a sideways lurch, just like there had always been. He felt Frisk’s grip tighten instinctively. For a moment, there was nothing.

Then there was ground beneath his feet again. Sans opened his eyesockets and stared up at the front door to the house he shared with Papyrus. On the roof, a small handful of black birds were calling. And above that, through a gap in the trees, the stars still dotted the sky.

“I did it.”

He said it without really meaning to. Frisk let out a breath they’d been holding and they made a quiet sound that was almost a laugh.

“I knew you could.”

Sans stepped up to the door and raised a fist. He hesitated for a moment.

Then he knocked.

The door flew open mere seconds later and Undyne appeared in the doorway, glaring out and looking around until she spotted Sans and Frisk.

Her eye went wide and the fierce look on her face disappeared. Sans gave her a very tired smile.

“Hey, Undyne.”

“Holy sh--shark! It’s Sans! PAPS, IT’S SANS! AND FRISK!” Undyne turned to call over her shoulder. “SANS IS BACK! HE’S GOT FRISK WITH HIM! PAPS, TORI, THEY’RE BACK!”

Sans heard people scrambling to their feet and Undyne stepped back out of the doorway to let Sans and Frisk in. It was warm inside, and it felt like the first time Sans had been warm in years. Toriel rushed for Frisk, face drawn and harrowed. Sans let go of Frisk’s hand and they went to her. Toriel went to her knees and gathered Frisk into a tight hug.

“My child, I was so worried,” Toriel said, voice trembling. “What happened? Are you injured, are you safe?”

“I’m okay, Mom, I promise,” Frisk said, clinging to her like they were afraid to let go.

Sans looked past them all to see Papyrus standing in the living room, staring at Sans. His eyesockets were wide and his eyelights were bright. There was a piece of paper crumpled in one of his hands. Sans recognized his own chicken-scratch handwriting on the note.

“Hey, bro.” Sans’s voice came out much too raw. He swallowed, trying for a moment to regain some semblance of composure. But it was pointless. There was no way he could act like this didn’t matter, not when his brother was looking at him like that. He thought the others might be watching, but he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was his brother.

“Sans.”

Papyrus didn’t move.

“Yeah. It’s me,” Sans said, taking a tentative step forward. “I came back.”

Papyrus rushed toward him. Sans didn’t have the energy to move further than another shaking step. Papyrus sank to his knees and pulled Sans into a tight hug. Sans hugged him back as tight as he could, practically collapsing in Papyrus’s arms. Papyrus was warm and alive and real.

“I’m okay,” Sans said, at the same time that Papyrus started to ask. “I’m okay. I’m sorry.”

Something broke in Sans and he buried his face against Papyrus’s chest, hands twisting in the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m sorry, Papyrus, I’m so sorry.”

“You  _ jerk,” _ Papyrus said, voice choked with tears. “Don’t  _ ever _ do that to me again.”

“I won’t. I’m sorry. I’m s-so sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Papyrus said. “You came back.”


	10. LOAD 02464: Ending #?????: Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alphys finds something very important. Gaster explains some things. The stranger in the Void gets a name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains panic attacks and implied abuse.

“Did you mean that?” Sans asked after Alphys lowered the phone from her ear, ending the call. He was watching her from across the room, leaning against the side of the throne. The throne room was empty except for the two of them.

Alphys didn’t answer right away. She turned to look back at him, expression pained and tired. It was the most emotion Sans had seen on her face in days.

“About killing them?” Alphys said, sighing a little and dropping her phone into a pocket in her robes. “Yeah. I sh-should have. I mean…I don’t think I w-would have been capable of it then. But I still should have. You know?”

Sans gave her a wry, mirthless grin.

“Yeah. I, uh. I know.”

She held his gaze for a long moment and nodded. Then she put on a fake smile of her own and tilted her head back, looking up toward the ceiling of the throne room.

“God, I so don’t belong here,” she said, gaze taking in the rest of the room. “I k-keep letting flowers die. Golden flowers are s-super resilient, so of course it’d be me who kills them, haha. Asgore would’ve been f-furious. But…I guess it doesn’t really matter in the end, right? The human’s j-just gonna Reset eventually. This probably won’t last much longer. Right?”

She had cornered him after the coronation and demanded answers. She had figured most of it out herself, seen it in assorted readings and results, in the uncanny way that the human had been able to predict all of Mettaton’s attacks, the sense of lost time and deja vu. Sans had merely confirmed what she’d already known. He’d told her everything. There had been no point in keeping it a secret anymore. And if she was going to rule, she might as well know.

Sans didn’t answer her, but he lowered his gaze, staring at a nearby golden flower. He never liked being in this room. He wasn’t sure why, but these flowers made him uncomfortable. Alphys had talked about moving the throne to a more appropriate room, but had never gotten around to it.

“This must be what y-you go through, huh.”

Sans shrugged, not looking up from the flower. “I guess. I don’t really remember all that much most of the time. But you’re right, they never leave it this way for long. Couple weeks, couple months. Can’t be more than a year. I figure they just get bored eventually.”

“Pretty, um. F-Fucked up,” Alphys said. He looked up in time to see her expression settle back into the tired, stony neutrality she’d been carrying around since becoming Queen. “That all it takes is b-boredom.”

Sans snorted and shrugged again. “As far as I know, at least. I’ve never asked them. Probably should one of these days.”

Alphys made a nondescript sound and didn’t answer. Sans kept watching her. She was staring contemplatively at the throne.

“How much more paperwork do you have for the evening?” she asked after awhile, not looking at him.

“Not much.” Sans took a breath and shifted back into business mode. This whole phone call thing had been an unpleasant diversion. He had a feeling it always was, every variation. It almost felt good to get back into the routine of palace upkeep. He was doing such a good job of not thinking about the human these days.

“I still just need to finalize the Waterfall census and start on next month’s ration distribution report. Shouldn’t take too long.”

“If you finish before dinner, can you meet me down in my lab?” Alphys grimaced. “I have s-some, uh, ‘queenly duties’ to finish, but there’s…um, something I want to show you.”

He grinned at her. “Not another play to get me to be the Royal Scientist, right?”

“No. I’m giving up on that whole thing.” She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s hard enough just keeping the Core running these days. G-Gotta focus on that before we can get back into R&D. And the t-timeline probably won’t last that long anyway. God, it’s easy to get stuck in that mindset, huh? ‘It’s all gonna end so nothing we do matters.’ Except like, o-on the offchance that it doesn’t all end tomorrow, people are gonna need to eat and have electricity, so. I dunno where I w-was going with that. Sorry.”

He shook his head a little. “Nah, it’s okay. I get it.”

“Yeah. You do, huh.” She sighed again. “Anyway. You can go, uh…do stuff. Or, I mean, you’re dismissed. Just come down to the lab when you’re done.”

He smirked at her. “Sure thing, Your Majesty.”

She just rolled her eyes. The title used to freak her out every time Sans used it, either jokingly or to save face in front of the palace staff. She’d come a long way.

Sans left and got back to work.

The palace was quiet. Without Undyne or Mettaton or most of the Royal Guard, the entire Underground was quiet. Sans hadn’t been back to Snowdin since the evacuation, but he’d heard that the region was now a ghost town, and that even Grillby had packed up and moved to the capital. Alphys was doing her absolute best, but morale was at an all-time low. Many monsters had simply quit their jobs, preferring to idle away their time in their homes with whatever loved ones remained. Others had already Fallen.

The palace was the worst of all. The Guard had been decimated, and the staff had been cut in half, leaving the palace full of whispers and echoes. There was only a handful of people left maintaining the palace and grounds, mostly doing basic upkeep. The Amalgamates that Alphys had created had taken over a lot of it, since none of them had families to go back to, and they couldn’t very well stay locked up in the Hotland laboratory to starve. They were doing pretty well, all things considered, though reintegrating into society was a long and ongoing process. They almost exclusively stayed in the palace, doing odd-jobs. Sans did his level best to take care of the rest, but there was a lot of it, to the point that he’d pretty much become both the primary caretaker of the palace as well as Alphys’s chief advisor. He figured Papyrus would find it hilarious, that Sans of all people was charged with taking care of anything at all.

Sans didn’t mind it too much most of the time. He was working almost constantly, which meant there wasn’t much time to think too hard about how quiet things were, and who was no longer here. It also meant that by the end of the day, he fell asleep instantly. He had no idea what he would have done if Alphys hadn’t given him the job. He had a feeling they’d both been equally desperate.

He had done a fairly good job of not thinking about anything, staying subdued and busy and too tired for all of it. But Alphys had wanted to make the call for about a week now, and Sans couldn’t possibly let her go through that alone. Nor did Sans think he could make the call himself without her. Hearing Alphys talk to the human had stirred up things he had wanted to simply forget until the next Reset.

Not thinking about anything was a good way to not have to  _ feel  _ anything either. He was good at both.

Whatever Alphys wanted to show him was probably going to be worse. Apprehension followed Sans throughout the rest of the afternoon, distracting him from the mindless paperwork and usual meetings with assorted monsters. He sat at his desk, the lights turned up too high, and tried to focus. The Waterfall census should have been just simple numbers and data entry, but he found himself remembering that every number was a monster. Twelve. Twelve monsters were left in all of Waterfall. The population had been in the hundreds before. Some of them simply hadn’t returned to the region after the evacuation, but the rest…

He’d actually seen some of it. He’d watched the human play along with Shyren, singing with her, attracting other monsters to watch, like a little impromptu concert. He’d seen Shyren smiling for the first time in a long time, confident in a way she never had been. And the human had killed her right as the small crowd started cheering for the two singers. Sans had been hiding nearby, close enough to see the look on Shyren’s face.

It was the little things, he’d come to realize. Finding Papyrus’s dust in the snow was just--too big to ever think about or feel anything about or ever look at straight on. It was the smaller moments that stuck with him, piling up over time. Lesser Dog’s whine when he realized what was happening, and how he hadn’t made a sound when it actually happened. The ice slime parents, hurriedly pushing their children indoors. Hyzenthlay, the shopkeeper, begging her sister to stay with her during the evacuation, always too stubborn to leave her home behind. The overpowering smell of limes in a cavern scattered with dust, the last Moldbygg cowering absolutely motionless in a corner. The haunted look on Monster Kid’s face as they explained what they had seen happen to Undyne. The way the cameras had kept silently recording the pieces of Mettaton’s body, scattered across the floor, until someone had managed to switch them off.

This had probably all happened before, but all those horrible little moments? How could those all be the same, every time? It simply couldn’t be that granular, that detailed. There was too much chance for variation--monsters killed, monsters left alive, the timing. The specific ways the human had  _ toyed  _ with monsters like Shyren, smiling and faking kindness until the monster’s guard was down.

Sans set down his paperwork and got up from his desk. Then he teleported to the Snowdin forest, to the old clearing he had used for practicing magic. He very deliberately pressed his hands together, then pressed them both to his mouth. He couldn’t breathe.

This was why there was no point in feeling anything. You got started, and then you couldn’t stop. All those little things piled on and on and on, until you couldn’t breathe.

Sans closed his eyesockets. 

“Knock knock. Who’s there? Hydrogen. Sorry, my name isn’t ‘Drogen,’” Sans muttered, keeping his hands firmly pressed to his teeth. “Two atoms are walking along and one says to the other, ‘I think I dropped an electron!’ Second asks, ‘you sure?’ First says, ‘yep, absolutely positive.’”

The air out here was so much colder than in the palace, or anywhere in New Home. Not stuffy or musty. It smelled like snow and trees. Everything that had happened, and this clearing hadn’t changed at all. The forest didn’t know or care that hundreds of people had died.

It was easier to be cold.

“Where does light go when it’s committed a crime? To prism.”

Sans breathed as slowly as he could, enunciating his words and ignoring how his voice trembled. He didn’t have time for this. There was so much to do. Paperwork, meetings, inspections, speeches, the thing Alphys wanted to show him. The Queen needed him. He could stop and set this aside and simply never address it; wait for the Reset to set everything back to zero. It was like a switch he could flip in his mind--or maybe in his soul--and it had been like that for what felt like years now. Sometimes it just took a bit longer.

“What happens when electrons lose energy? They get Bohr’d. Heh.”

Sans finally lowered his hands as his breathing evened out. The silence wasn’t so bad out here. It was normal, snowy forest silence. Even that hadn’t changed about this place. It was peaceful, not oppressive.

He was fine. It was always fine in the end. And on the bright side, he’d only lost a few minutes to this pointless little freakout. He’d even gotten some good jokes out of it. No one on the palace staff seemed to want to hear any jokes these days.

Sans teleported back to his office. He sat down with a sigh and got back to the numbers.

  
  
  


No one had actually known that there were coffins in the palace basement until Alphys had started to move in. The staff had been just as shocked as Alphys. Apparently, Asgore had kept that particular room locked and had only ever entered it himself. Which Sans figured made sense. It was common knowledge that the dead humans had been interred at the palace somewhere, but it wasn’t like anyone had ever gone looking, or even wanted to. Only Asgore would have cared.

Alphys had ordered the coffins removed. Sans had no idea where they were now and didn’t want to know. He thankfully hadn’t seen them when they’d been here; he’d moved into the castle long after they were gone. The space had been transformed into a small, poorly-equipped laboratory that Alphys used in her very, very rare downtime. It was the only room in the entire palace that was ever messy, covered in dust and strewn with papers and the occasional empty ramen package. A queen couldn’t be messy and disorganized, after all, any more than she could be publicly depressed.

Alphys was there when Sans arrived, pacing the laboratory and practicing an upcoming speech. Reaper Bird followed her on ungainly legs, holding a clipboard and buzzing to themself.

“It is not an ideal situation for anyone,” Alphys was saying, face stony as she paced. “But circumstances b-being what they are, we simply no longer have the manpower to keep the Core running--not unless we, u-unfortunately, make a few changes. In the coming weeks, we will be discussing whether it’s t-time to cut off power to Waterfall, as we did with Snowdin two months ago.”

Alphys paused and ran a hand over her head spines.

“I dunno,” she said, stopping and looking up at Sans. “The term ‘cut power’ j-just sounds so brutal. There’s gotta b-be a better term.”

“Uh.” Sans stepped further into the lab, looking around to see if he could spot whatever Alphys had wanted to show him. “Maybe…limit power? Limit resources?”

“Limit resources…maybe. I wish I had a speechwriter.” Alphys looked up at Reaper Bird. “Could you let the kitchen staff know that I’ll be up for dinner in about h-half an hour?”

Reaper Bird bent their neck at a couple different angles in a sort of nod. They didn’t answer, but Sans watched as a butterfly bullet emerged from their “beak,” fluttered in place for a moment, then popped like a soap bubble. Sans moved aside to let them leave. They were tall enough that they had to bend several more times to fit through the door.

The Amalgamates had taken some getting used to, but for the most part, they were just monsters. Unique monsters, but still just monsters.

Alphys dropped into a chair in front of a computer with a sigh when she heard the door swing closed. Sans leaned back against the wall, watching as she scrubbed at her face with both hands.

“How you holding up?”

“You know,” Alphys said wryly. “H-Holding. You?”

“Eh. Same.” He shrugged. “Finished the Waterfall census. There’s twelve people left.”

Alphys’s expression flickered from tired stoicism to horror for just a split second.

“O-Only twelve?”

“Yeah. I mean, on the bright side, it won’t be too hard to move that few people out. If we do end up cutting power. There’s still lots of empty apartments in New Home. I can start drafting up a plan of some kind, just in case.”

“I had the start of one a-already,” Alphys said, nodding. “I can send it a-along to you to look over. It’s not the logistics I-I’m worried about, it’s…you remember how people reacted when we had to abandon Snowdin. And Woshuas are  _ stubborn.” _

“Just tell them about how many messes they’ll get to clean up if they move to New Home.”

“Heh.”

There was a momentary silence.

“So,” Sans said. “What did you want to show me?”

Alphys gave him a lingering look and pushed her glasses higher on her face. Then she turned to the computer and started typing something into a program Sans didn’t recognize.

“D-Did you know that, when you had me make that scanner thing… _ whenever  _ that was, that I kept a copy of your machine’s data f-for myself?”

Sans blinked at her and pushed off the wall.

“No,” he said. “But now that I think about it, it makes sense.”

“It was mostly just to have a backup in case the data became more corrupted or, I dunno, y-you broke the scanner,” Alphys said, opening a few different windows on the screen. Sans squinted as he recognized an image he hadn’t seen in awhile--several colorful strings of information stretched across a white background, cut through with jagged swipes of red. He came to stand behind her computer, trying to follow whatever she was doing. One of the windows looked like complex programming code.

“I’d kind of poke at it sometimes back…uh, with all the Determination studies, when I w-was waiting for a centrifuge to finish or wh-whatever. Just to have something to o-occupy my mind so  I didn’t start th-thinking too much, yanno? I mean, it was that or memes. Sometimes memes don’t cut it.”

“Yeah.”

“Anyway, I stopped for awhile when I became queen.” Alphys hit enter and the code started cycling through on its own, though Sans had no idea what it was doing. “I mean, I barely have any f-free time for anything, a-and usually free time is just spent thinking about more queen stuff anyway. But--sometimes I wake up in the middle of the n-night and--just need to write code or something. Occupy my mind. S-So I started fiddling with some stuff.”

Sans wasn’t sure he liked where any of this was going. A few of the other windows closed while Alphys’s code ran, but others popped open, including what looked like a three-dimensional model of the timelines.

“I found things.” Alphys paused and gave Sans a flat look. “I’d guess you knew s-some of this stuff already and j-just didn’t tell me. Like--the fact that the human wasn’t the first anomaly. There were two. But the first one disappears s-so close to the second one, it makes it look like there’s only one. A-At least until you turn the data into something more c-complex than just--colorful, tangled threads.”

Sans met Alphys’s gaze evenly. He did know. He also knew there was some reason he hadn’t told Alphys, and that it was probably a good one. But if she had found it herself, then there was no point in denying.

“Yeah,” he said eventually. “There were two. I think the first one had control of the timeline the same way the human does. But I don’t know for how long.”

Alphys studied him, her expression distant.

“Did--you know that the first anomaly w-was--the flower?” she asked quietly. “Did you know and j-just not tell me?”

“I--” Sans looked away. “I don’t know.”

“Sans.”

“I really don’t. I can remember bits and pieces from the--the current set of timelines. But I can barely remember anything from then.” Sans closed his eyesockets for a moment and saw a flash of green, thorn-covered vines crawling across the snow. “I don’t even know what the deal with the flower is. I just saw him every now and then while the human was here, watching.”

“I made him,” Alphys said.

“...What?”

Alphys smirked bitterly. “Th-The worst thing is I’ve probably told you this already. But y-yeah. I made him. The whole thing I was d-doing with Determination…the goal was to create a vessel to house the superpowered monster souls, a-and then use that vessel to take down the barrier. That way Asgore wouldn’t have to absorb any human souls, and w-we wouldn’t have to wait around for a seventh. The vessel I used w-was a flower growing in the garden. I injected it with more Determination than I--e-ever did with the Amalgamates. It never seemed to work, but then one day, it was just--gone. Like--haha. Like it got up and left. Which I g-guess it did.”

This was familiar, in that way that left Sans with a lurching, sick feeling. They  _ had  _ talked about this before. Sans rubbed at his forehead, starting to sweat.

“I get why you didn’t tell me,” Alphys said, quieter. “Y-You probably did once and I freaked out. Um, I definitely would have f-freaked out back then. So you just--kept it t-to yourself and dealt with it on y-your own like you always do.”

Sans didn’t answer.

“Not like I’m any better, though,” Alphys said, turning back to the computer screen. “Anyway…the reason I bring it up is…I got to thinking about the flower and h-his effect on things since w-we already know about the human’s…effect. I analyzed y-your data. Or, I kind of--wrote this program to analyze it, because there’s so much freaking information th-that I couldn’t analyze it with what I had, and with us still l-lacking the soul power integration from when the other--the other Royal S-Scientist was alive--anyway, point being, I’ve h-had this program compiling for weeks and it just finished this morning. And this is what I found.”

Alphys hit another button on her keyboard. All of the windows collapsed, and a new one appeared, taking up the whole screen.

It was some kind of 3D model comprised of countless points of white light with two bright red lines connecting them, like some kind of 3D scatter plot. Sans squinted and leaned closer over the back of Alphys’s chair, trying to understand what he was looking at. The image had a strange design to it, the dots and lines arranged loosely like a four-pointed star. In the middle of the star was a ring of darkness where the dots and lines simply stopped--only to reappear in the middle of the star and continue on into the center.

“What am I looking at here?”

“This is the last three hours that the human was in the Underground,” Alphys explained. “These are all the timelines--o-or at least, the ones you had data on--overlaid on each other. Th-They all look like this. The white points are us. E-Every iteration of us. The red lines are the anomalies. Look.”

Alphys tapped a claw against the screen, at the outer edge of the black ring near the middle of the star.

“The two of them overlap each other. A-And then right after that, there’s this darkness. Then everything comes back.”

“So what does that darkness mean?”

“It’s--a gap,” Alphys said, frowning. “Sans, I calculated it, and this gap would have h-happened right around when the human was, um-- _ meeting  _ Asgore. The two anomalies come together when the human was probably killing him, a-and then there’s this, like, hole.”

“A hole in  _ what?” _

“In the timelines. In  _ all _ of them. They stop and then start back up. A-And it’s the first anomaly that does it.”

“How can you tell? And what does it even mean?”

“I wrote this program and--okay, the oversimplification is, I a-assigned a number to the two anomalies and noted every time they u-used their Determination to affect the timeline. I mean, hell, I think if I could k-keep my freaking memory between timelines, I could probably write something to t-track every instance of Determination and use that to…whatever, never m-mind. Reloads and such. In all of this?” Alphys gestured at the entire image. “It’s all the second anomaly. Except right here.” She tapped the combined red lines right before the black ring. “Here it’s number one. Th-The first anomaly, the flower. He took back over the timeline for awhile and made this gap. If it’s a h-hole in the timelines, that can only really mean one thing, at least, yanno, at least as far as we understand any of this--this--bullshit. Basically, he opened a hole into the Void.”

Sans stared at the image.

“You’re kidding.”

“I just don’t understand wh-why. I mean, I guess maybe the human and the flower were fighting? And--maybe they killed him, I d-dunno. I haven’t seen him since. I used to see him creeping around sometimes.”

“But you can’t just--people just can’t go to the Void,” Sans said, taking a step back and massaging his temples. “It doesn’t work like that. It’s not like some--secret cave you can get into if you know the way.”

“You’ve been there, r-right?”

Sans’s soul leapt painfully. He had never told Alphys about the dreams involving Gaster. He had never told anyone. For a split second, he wondered if she had figured  _ that _ out, too.

“I--I guess I passed through it inside the machine, but that barely counts.”

“Do you have any idea how he could have g-gotten there?”

“I just know it would have taken an insane amount of power. More than Determination alone. I mean, we needed four human souls to power the…the machine, back then…” Sans trailed off, eyesockets going wide.

Alphys studied him for a moment, then her eyes snapped wide as well.

“H-Holy shit,” she whispered. “That’s what happened to the h-h-human souls. The  _ flower _ got them. Y-You think he got all six?”

Sans scrubbed at his face. “I mean, he must have, right? Why absorb just one or two when you can get all six? We needed four to artificially reproduce the power you could get from a monster absorbing just one. He could have easily gotten to the Void. He could have done whatever he wanted at that point.”

“And the human  _ still _ defeated him. J-Jeez. What must that have  _ been _ like?”

Sans just shook his head. He didn’t want to imagine it.

Gaster probably knew, he realized. Gaster had probably seen the whole fight. Sans wondered if he had ever mentioned it--it wasn’t like Sans remembered everything that happened in the Void. Maybe Gaster had deemed it irrelevant.

And…it  _ was _ irrelevant, wasn’t it? Sans frowned as he started to come back to himself, the excitement of scientific discovery dissolving into reality.

“Al--I mean, Your Majesty,” he said after a moment. “This is all fascinating, but…it doesn’t really mean anything in the grand scheme of things. Knowing the flower absorbed the human souls and accessed the Void…it doesn’t change the situation. We’re still stuck in this timeline. You’ve still got a nation to run, I’ve still got paperwork to do. None of this really…matters.”

“I know,” Alphys said, voice a little strained. “I-I get that, I do. But it’s not just…that the flower opened the Void. Th-That’s not the end of it. Him opening the Void altered not just our timeline, but--I mean, I h-have to extrapolate, but probably  _ all _ of them. That…crack into the Void. It had a r-ripple effect, forward and back through time. Since the Void is outside time and space, th-that means that crack exists  _ everywhere _ and a-at  _ every time. _ ”

Sans felt his soul drop. He had to grip the back of Alphys’s chair to keep from sagging.

“Can…” Sans’s mouth felt dry. “Can he get out?”

“Who?” Alphys turned, frowning at Sans’s tone. “The flower?”

“No. Gaster. Can he get out?”

Her eyes widened again for a moment, but then a thoughtful look crossed her face.

“I mean…I don’t think so. I think only the flower has access to the Void, and only at the moment that he--does wh-whatever the hell he does. Besides if, Ga…um…whatever his name is that you literally just said, if he could get out, then he would have already.”

“Okay.” Sans took a slow, controlled breath and let go of Alphys’s chair. “Okay.”

Alphys’s was frowning again. “Would it be a b-bad thing if he got out? I know he wasn’t the b-best person, but you reacted like I just said the h-human was standing behind you.”

Sans didn’t look at her. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if it’s possible. Or if he’d choose to come back to the timeline if he did have the chance. I--for awhile I thought that was what he wanted, that he was trying to…”

Sans thought back to the last time Gaster had tried to hurt him badly. Several years ago now, sometime after that whole thing with Undyne and his soul being turned green. Gaster had been angry at him for whatever reason, and Sans had finally figured out that all of it had been for nothing. That Gaster had been trying to use Sans to return to the timeline, but that it was impossible. Because if it was, a little obstacle like Sans’s infinitesimal willpower wouldn’t have been so much of an issue. Gaster had all that magic, and all the power of the Void behind him. He could have steamrolled over Sans if he had wanted to.

Alphys was right. If he could get out, he would have already.

Sans didn’t notice that Alphys had been watching him.

“‘For awhile?’” she asked. “Why do you s-say it like that? Like you--wait, have you  _ seen _ him? Do you talk to him? H-Holy shit, is that why you always seem to kn-know things?”

“No, of course not,” Sans said, his voice perfectly even. “I have a better handle on this stuff because of the machine, that’s all.”

She squinted at him, and Sans could tell she didn’t believe him. She opened her mouth, then closed it, and stayed silent for a long moment.

“Alright. Anyway,” she said, turning back to her computer again. “No, I d-don’t think he can get out, and I don’t think anyone can get in, either. But I’m--worried. I’m not a physicist, but…a crack in the fabric of spacetime, on top of what the doctor did back then,  _ a-and  _ on top of what the two anomalies have done…I mean, just…what they did to us was bad enough, b-but what about wh-what they’re doing to spacetime? Like, is this--really healthy for the universe?”

“You know, I’m pretty sure we had this conversation ten years ago,” Sans said tiredly. “Remember how we just sort of gave up on it because we realized we couldn’t do anything about it? This isn’t any different, Your Majesty. It’s pointless. We should just…focus on what we  _ can  _ do. The here and now.”

“This  _ is _ the here and now,” Alphys said, her voice trembling. “Because I-I was thinking about all of this this morning, after I saw the model, s-so I thought, well, maybe I c-can analyze the crack or whatever it is, because there has to be something in your machine’s d-data about it, right? I don’t exactly have a freaking Void-tracking device, a-and I don’t have the time to make one, s-so I have to rely on what I have. So I did analyze it, Sans, a couple times, and most of what came back was either nothing or incomprehensible, but…but I did find…one thing.”

Alphys closed the star-shaped model and opened a different file. The screen turned black, with three short lines of white text in the upper lefthand corner.

Sans momentarily debated just walking out of the lab. He could probably get away with it. Just walk out, go get dinner, get some more work done before bed. Stop thinking about things that didn’t have to matter.

Instead, he leaned forward so he could read whatever was on the screen. He sighed to himself.

“‘02460: Continue,’” Sans read. “‘02464: Reset. 02465: True Reset.’ I don’t get it.”

“Well,” Alphys said, and took a very deep breath. “This is code. Um, in computing, w-we call these ‘strings.’”

“Like strings of numbers, sure. Or you saying you proved string theory? Heh, cause you already did that a few years ago, remember?”

“No, Sans, it’s--n-not strings like the typical usage of the word or like, quantum physics stuff. Although, haha, wow, f-funny that it’s the same word, huh? It’s a specific--it’s a s-specific term for--for how you represent certain types of data i-in the script of a program. They’re used for coding all kinds of things.”

“So?”

“So literally looking through spacetime i-into the core of existence is showing us  _ strings.” _

“And that means…?”

Alphys stared up at him.

Sans was very good at reading faces, and Alphys had never been very good at concealing her emotions. She had gotten infinitely better since becoming queen, but to Sans at least, she was as obvious as most people were. He watched her entire thought process play out in her expressions. There was something she understood, something she had understood as soon as she had seen these strings. It was cataclysmic, whatever it was. And she was debating whether to explain it to him. She was debating, and she was deciding not to. There was a flicker of something like sympathy there, for just a moment.

“You know,” she said softly, “I th-think I really am starting to understand what you go through.”

“You’re not gonna tell me,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

Her face closed off. She really had gotten good at it. She drew a deep breath through her nose, then closed all of the windows on her computer. Then she picked up a USB drive that had been sitting on her desk, the plastic casing painted with what looked like pink nail polish.

“You still h-have that time saver that my dad made, right?”

“Of course.”

She held out the USB to him.

“I need you to put this with it, okay?” she said, a note of desperation in her voice. “I can’t figure it out in this timeline. B-But another version of me will be able to. I n-need you to give that to her. Okay?”

Sans took the drive without hesitating.

“Can you at least tell me why it’s so important?”

“We can’t stop the anomaly--either of them--by fighting them or a-anything like that,” Alphys said, relaxing so much that she actually slumped in her chair. “But we actually  _ can  _ stop them. That’s what a-all of this means. Um--you’re right, I think explaining the truth would--would h-hurt you. But you saw what those words were, r-right? Continue, Reset, and True Reset. We just have to get rid of those last two.”

“Okay,” Sans said slowly, frowning and pocketing the USB. “Okay. You’re saying, take away their ability to Reset.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“How?”

Alphys gave a strange little smile.

“I’m a really good hacker,” she said.

He stared at her for a moment, waiting for her to say more, but she didn’t. Sans sighed again. This all still seemed pointless, and it felt dangerously like false hope, thinking there might actually be a way to stop the Resets. It wasn’t possible, no matter what Alphys thought.  _ Every  _ timeline ended the exact same way.

But he would do as she asked. Of course he would.

“I can’t guarantee that I’ll even…remember it’s there, you know,” he said. “I haven’t been into my own lab in--god, ages. I don’t like going in there. The timeline where I go back might be a long  _ time _ in coming, heh.”

“That’s okay,” Alphys said, still with that faint, strange smile on her face. “Just get it back into my hands eventually. Um…and in the meantime…I w-won’t talk about timelines or Resets or any of this again. Okay? I know it…I know you don’t like it.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Like I said--I get it.”

“I’ll go drop this off,” Sans said, turning for the door. “Then can we do dinner? I’m starving. And I still need to give you my reports.”

The smile disappeared, and Alphys was the queen again. She got to her feet.

“Yeah. G-Got a nation to run, don’t we?”

  
  
  
***

 

 

Sans came slowly to consciousness in the Void. He cracked open his eyesockets and saw a jagged mess of static and scratch-outs perched over him. They must have been waiting. Sans managed not to flinch, but he did inhale a little sharper than intended.

“Raring to go, huh?” he said mildly. He had no intention of fighting back this time. The whole song and dance had become much too exhausting to exert that kind of effort. They could do whatever they wanted. It didn’t matter.

They seemed to sit back on their heels.  _ “Actually, I have no intention of dunking on you. This time.” _

“Oh.” He closed his eyesockets again. “How nice.”

_ “Which one have you come from?” _

“You even gonna believe whatever answer I give?”

They gave a derisive snort.  _ “Try me.” _

“Alphys became queen.” It had lasted a few months this time. Just a long, arduous crumbling of the rest of society as Alphys tried to hold things together.

She had given him something, hadn’t she? They’d been discussing timelines or something, and she’d given him some kind of data to keep safe. Hopefully he’d remember it for next time.

_ “Ah, yes. A much earlier one. Very intriguing, to see her become so responsible. If only the same could ever be said for you.” _

“Uh-huh.” Sans scratched lazily at a spot on his sternum. “The doc around?”

Purely rhetorical; Gaster was always around. Sans could sense him, somewhere far away. No doubt keeping an eye on the two of them. Surely he’d come over eventually now that Sans was here.

_ “Around.”  _ There was an edge to their voice now.  _ “He tries to talk to me sometimes.” _

“Yeah? Anything good?”

_ “I decided that if this was all really going to be happening, it might as well happen when you are here. So for the most part, I ignore him.” _

“Yeah. That only works for so long.”

_ “Yes, he seems like a persistent sort.” _

Sans couldn’t help a snort of laughter. “You have no idea.”

They were quiet for a bit. He could feel them watching him, probably waiting for him to make a false move. Sans just kept his eyesockets closed, wondering vaguely if it was possible to nap while he was--probably?--asleep. Sleeping through things made them go by so much faster.

_ “Aren’t you going to ask about the results of his--experiment?” _

Sans went rigid. Had there been some kind of new experiment, or had they somehow found out about what Gaster had gotten up to when he was alive? Just how much did they know?

“I don’t know what you mean.”

_ “What we discussed last time. Or is your memory so bad that you cannot remember that, either?” _

Sans was quiet, frowning to himself. What they’d discussed…ah. It was coming back to him now. Some other version of Sans had gotten himself into trouble. Something about a mountain.

“Right, yeah. Alright, sure, tell me.”

_ “The human managed to catch the trashbag before he could do anything more foolish than climb a mountain in the dead of winter while malnourished. He and the human had a…surprisingly in-depth discussion.” _

“Heh. About the wisdom of climbing mountains?”

_ “So to speak.” _

This was genuinely strange. It was almost like the two of them were sitting here and having a civil conversation. Surely the Void being was simply waiting for a good opportunity, or Gaster would show up in a moment to ruin things.

“I was supposed to deliver a message, right?”

_ “Yes. You--he delivered it.” _

“‘Kay. It change anything?”

They were quiet for long enough that Sans opened his eyesockets again to peer up at them. They seemed to be gazing off into the distance, contemplative.

_ “I,” _ they began, then paused with a soft grumble, like they weren’t sure whether they should say anything.  _ “I do not like false hope.” _

“Oh, hey.” Sans grinned a little. “That’s something we can agree on.”

_ “Indeed. Which is why it pains me to say that your message to the human has…potential. Maybe. If nothing else, it is one more secret to uncover. This game truly is full of them.” _

Sans stared past them up into the darkness and made a thoughtful sound.

“So if you’re calling it false hope, then what’s the thing you’re hoping for?”

_ “Oh, Sans. You know better than to think I would answer such a question.” _

Sans chuckled faintly. He certainly wouldn’t have answered, either.

_ “What is taking so long? Surely he wants to come regale us with more of his ridiculous ideas. Why is he just hovering out there? I cannot see him yet, but I can certainly feel him.” _

Sans’s eyelights flicked over to the stranger and he stared at them.

“You--you can see him?”

They tilted their head, staring right back down at him. A few of the scratch-outs covering their face dissipated for just a moment, and Sans caught a glimpse of surprised, red eyes.

_ “You can’t?” _

Sans dragged himself slowly up to a sitting position, scooting a few inches away from the creature. He kept an eyesocket on them the whole time, just in case, but they simply watched him.

They could see him. That brief surprise in their eyes meant they were telling the truth. They could actually  _ see _ him as he was in this place, whatever that meant. Was it because they were part of this place too? Or was it because Gaster had been intentionally hiding his appearance from Sans this entire time? Or was Gaster simply using some kind of avatar that only they could see?

“What, uh.”

Sans looked away. He shouldn’t have said anything, shouldn’t have given any indication that he wanted to know.  _ Wanting _ something was the same as revealing a weak point, even if it was something as small as wanting to know what your old boss now looked like. It meant sentimentality, and sentimentality was exploitable.

_ “He looks vaguely like a skeleton. Is that what kind of monster he was, before he ended up here?”  _ Their voice was even as they spoke, casual as if this didn’t matter.  _ “Black and white, and cracks in his face. Many hands that move independent of the rest of him. It is hard to discern his limbs, however. He looks like a melted candle. A curious appearance, even for a monster.” _

Interesting that they would offer such information freely. Unable to see their face, Sans couldn’t even tell if they were telling the truth or not. But…he could picture it in his head. Cracks in his face, many hands--Gaster had always used to use some of his hand-shaped bullets, both for communication and just for extra dexterity. He’d been careful and concise with them, until after he’d become Determined. A “melted candle.” He had been melting from the Determination, there at the end.

Sans kept his expression blank, but it didn’t seem to matter. They were watching him like a hawk.

_ “You really can’t see him.” _

He could feign disinterest, but all at once he was sick of pretending. Sick of the games. Being constantly on the defensive was exhausting.

“Not, uh. Not really. Sometimes he uses, like…avatars, or certain imagery.” Sans’s gaze flicked up to their face for a moment. “Kind of like you do, with this whole static, scratch-outs thing. The first time I saw you, you looked like a regular person.”

They gave a harsh, sudden laugh.  _ “A regular person! Perish the thought! Is this mess not more truthful to the core of what I am?” _

“I dunno. Still haven’t seen anything all that demonic from you.”

_ “Perhaps I should stab you in the chest again, to remind you.” _

“The human’s done that on their own,” Sans said with an expansive shrug. “Doesn’t make them a demon.”

_ “‘On their own,’” _ they repeated with a scoff, grinning viciously.  _ “Then what does it make them, Sans?” _

An anomaly, Sans thought, but he hesitated with a frown. They certainly were an anomaly, but they were also more than that. They were a human. A child. A person. They had to be just as complex as anyone else. They had killed so many people, even in the most recent timeline that he could remember, but…they had also  _ saved _ those same people in other timelines. Befriended them, even.

What did that make them?

He wondered if this was that other Sans’s influence, making him think such things.

“I guess I don’t know,” he admitted.

They ground their teeth together, frustrated, but they said nothing.

“Anyway. To answer your question before.” Sans sighed and braced his hands on the floor behind him, leaning backward. “He hasn’t come over yet because he’s observing us. Yanno, leave two specimens together in the box, see how they interact.”

_ “Charming.” _

“Ehh. Didn’t he say he wanted us to--what, work together or something?” Sans grinned a little. “Is that why we’ve managed to be civil for about five minutes now?”

Their smile flickered into a frown for just a split second. Their head tilted downward, as if they were staring at the Void floor.

_ “You flinched last time.” _

Sans frowned at them, wondering if he’d misheard.

“Huh?”

_ “When he touched you, you flinched,”  _ they said, tone completely neutral.  _ “And then when he grabbed you, you went very still.” _

Sans kept his face expressionless. Great. More ammunition for them. He gave them a careless smile and shrugged.

“I don’t flinch.”

_ “No, you don’t. Or at least, I had only seen it before when I touched you that one time. Perhaps it is simply because you cannot see him, and thus could not see when he reached for you. I know full well that you cannot dodge what you cannot see.” _ They paused, staring right at him.  _ “It is not that you dislike touch. You are cautious with the human. Which--I will admit, I appreciate. It shows at least a modicum of awareness, about what unwelcome touch can do.” _

This was why it was so dangerous to tell them anything. This was why it was so stupid to let his guard down. They already knew everything about him--anything he gave them _ willingly _ was just one more thing they could twist into a weapon. They’d already seen that hurting him physically did very little. But that thing with Papyrus, the memory they’d given him that, for now at least, was a little hazy. That one had hurt, and they knew it.

Their tone, though…it wasn’t triumph or smugness or even curiosity in their voice. They spoke as if they were stating facts, piecing things together. Like they were trying to understand something.

_ “I have seen others touch you with no ill effect,”  _ they went on, and he could tell they were watching him very closely.  _ “Not just Papyrus, even.” _

Sans gave his most casual shrug. “Just don’t like being startled.”

_ “What did he do to you?” _

Sans felt his soul tighten. He kept his expression blank and disinterested, his posture relaxed. This felt the same as it had when Undyne had asked him a similar question, years ago. They had seen right through him, right through  _ everything, _ and all from only one interaction with the doctor.

He looked away, out into the Void, toward where he could feel Gaster still hovering and no doubt watching with interest.

“Thought you didn’t want to unlock my ‘tragic’ backstory,” Sans said with a chuckle. This didn’t have to matter. Even if them and Gaster now both had as much ammunition against him as they could ever need, this still didn’t have to matter.

_ “I know a bully when I see one,”  _ they said, and now there was very, very faint anger in their voice.  _ “It is why I despise you.” _

“Uh-huh.”

_ “But he is one, too.” _

Sans sagged a little. He couldn’t help it. This was so tiring.

_ “What is your relationship to him, anyway?”  _ Their voice went suddenly sharp.  _ “Is he family? Your father?” _

Sans burst into startled laughter.

“Holy shit, no,” he said, still laughing. “God, that would be fucked up. No, we just--he was my boss, a million years ago.”

_ “Aha. That was my second theory.” _

“Well, good. You figured it out, spooky,” Sans said, still grinning and pretending it was with amusement. “You know, I really should find something to call you.”

It was the most obvious deflection in the world, but they seemed to allow it. They smiled in almost exactly the same way as him.  _ “Is ‘Spooky’ not sufficient? It is six letters.” _

“Why does that matter?”

They didn’t answer.

“You’re seriously okay with me calling you Spooky?”

_ “My name has not mattered in a very, very long time. I will be whatever name I am given, with a few exceptions. I cannot be ‘Asgore.’ I cannot be ‘Sans,’ for that matter.” _

“Pfft. Probably for the best.”

_ “Quite. So. If Spooky is what you want, Spooky I shall be. It suits me, does it not?” _

“Alright. ‘F that’s what you want.”

_ “That, too, has not mattered in a very long time.” _

“Yanno, if you’re not gonna unlock my tragic backstory, I probably shouldn’t unlock yours.”

_ “Ah! You assume that a creature like me  _ has  _ a backstory, tragic or otherwise! Well. Queen Alphys, yes? Did she not tell you? She has the tapes. Or you always did imply that you knew about those poor souls in her basement. Perhaps you were in on the whole thing. Perhaps you already know about the tapes. You know everything else--why not that as well?” _

“Couldn’t tell you. I think I mighta found the Amalgamates once, but I can’t remember which timeline. Can’t remember what I did with that info, either. Like I keep saying, I  _ don’t  _ know everything. What tapes?”

Spooky took a slow, deep breath and canted their head to the side, considering him for a moment in silence.

_ “No, I don’t think so. Not yet. If you remember to ask her about ‘tapes,’ it is not like I can stop you. Quid pro quo, I suppose. A trade-off, for what I now know about you and the doctor.” _

Sans’s grin flickered a little. “Can’t stop you from asking him, then, either. Though I doubt he’d be honest.”

_ “I think, Sans, that if we are to follow this wild goose chase of his, and that if we are to discover certain things about each other, that we should make an agreement. Now.” _

He blinked. “Uh, okay?”

Spooky extended a hand, and as Sans watched, the static surrounding it disappeared. All at once, their hand looked like a normal human hand, with pale flesh and the edge of a green sleeve.

_ “I know you do not keep promises. I will not expect it. But this is not a promise I ask of you. This is mutually assured destruction. We will, after all, acquire all sorts of interesting new ways to harm each other. So this is what we shall agree to: we will never, under any circumstances, pity each other.” _

“Oh.” Sans hesitated for only a moment, then reached out and carefully took their hand. It felt real, though it was surprisingly cold. “No, yeah. I can get behind that. Fuck pity.”

They shook hands. Spooky let go after a single shake, jerking their hand back and letting the scratch-outs cover it once more.

“GOOD,” said a voice, and all at once, Gaster was there. Sans couldn’t help but tense, withdrawing his hand and folding both of them in his lap again, sitting up straight. He looked up at where Gaster’s voice was coming from, but like always, there was nothing there.

“A STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION. AT LEAST.”

_ “Have the specimens performed an interesting, noteworthy behavior, Doctor?”  _ Spooky asked in a high, mocking tone.  _ “Have we pressed the correct button to dispense the treats? I do not see any monster candies around. How disappointing.” _

“BEHAVIORAL RESEARCH WAS NOT MY FIELD,” Gaster said plainly. “NOW. TO THE POINT. YOU HAVE BOTH ACKNOWLEDGED THAT THE EXPERIMENT. WAS A SUCCESS. SANS AND THE HUMAN HAVE SPOKEN. THE MESSAGE HAS BEEN DELIVERED. THE HUMAN NOW CONSIDERS THEIR NEXT STEP. DO YOU. WISH TO KNOW WHAT THEY MUST DO?”

_ “The human does not like being told what to do. Nor do I.” _

Gaster made a sound like he was clicking a nonexistent tongue. “PETULANCE. TYPICAL. IF YOU ARE STILL NOT WILLING TO LISTEN. THEN PERHAPS WE MUST TRY ANOTHER EXPERIMENT.”

Sans sighed as he heard Spooky growl under their breath.

“Just get to the point for once, Doc, okay?”

“IT IS NOT A MATTER. OF ‘MUST DO.’ MORE ACCURATELY, IT IS…AN ALIGNMENT. A CONFLUENCE. AH. A VISUAL METAPHOR--”

A chessboard materialized out of thin air on the floor near Sans and Spooky. As Sans watched, the pieces rearranged themselves, a few of them disappearing from the board as they were “captured.” With the new arrangement, the black side would inevitably win in three more moves.

“LINING UP THE PIECES. THE GOAL--THE CHECKMATE--IS THREEFOLD. ONE. THE RESET BUTTON MUST BE DESTROYED. THIS THE HUMAN NOW UNDERSTANDS.”

_ “Can Asgore do it?” _

“KING ASGORE. IS NECESSARY FOR SUCCESS. ALL OF THEM ARE NECESSARY FOR. SUCCESS.”

_ “That did not answer my question.” _

“UNDERSTAND. IT IS DIFFICULT TO NARROW MY. FOCUS. AS I SAID. ASGORE IS INTEGRAL TO A SUCCESSFUL OUTCOME. THEREFORE, FROM MY PERSPECTIVE. THE ANSWER IS YES.”

There was a long pause. Sans was certain that Spooky was going to make a sarcastic remark, but they simply made a thoughtful sound. Sans was a little surprised as well. This was the most coherent and straightforward that Gaster had ever been.

“TWO. A TIMELINE IN WHICH ALL WHO CAN BE SAVED ARE SAVED MUST BE MAINTAINED. SAVE, TOO, IS INTEGRAL. IT IS WHY. EVERYONE WHO IS CURRENTLY INVOLVED. IS INTEGRAL. IF THEY ARE NECESSARY TO THE TIMELINE, THEN THE TIMELINE CANNOT EXIST WITHOUT THEM.”

Spooky leaned back on their hands, their smile unwavering.

_ “What do they call this? Doublespeak? Save and Save are two different things.” _

“IN THIS CASE, BOTH APPLY.”

“You’re talking about using a Save point,” Sans said, more to himself than anything. He could follow along, so long as he ignored the idea that a Reset manifested as some kind of button. Thinking about what that could imply made his head hurt and his soul feel tight.

“CORRECT. GOOD, SANS.”

Before, praise like that was good simply because it meant Gaster was less likely to become angry and unstable. And long before that, when Sans had believed he had any sort of value, praise was rare and something to be cherished.

Now there was no meaning in it at all. It felt like nothing. Nothing more than words.

Gaster seemed to notice Sans’s thought process, because he hesitated for a moment before continuing.

“A SAVE POINT. THE RAW, UNALIGNED POWER CONTAINED WITHIN. CAN BE USED TO OVERWRITE THE WHOLE OF THE TIMELINE. SEPARATING IT AND KEEPING. ALL OF ITS CONTENTS SAFE.”

Sans frowned into the darkness as he remembered something. It had been years and years now since he had thought about it, and the memory itself was hazy. But that first time he had gone back into the laboratory to look for clues, he had found a small scorch mark on the ground where something should have been. Something small and bright, flickering like a star.

He blinked. A star. Alphys--Alphys had shown him something similar. When looking at the timelines in three dimensions, the shape of it…

“That’s how you did it last time, isn’t it?”

He could feel both of them staring at him. Sans looked up at where he thought Gaster might be.

“I always wondered, but I never put two and two together. That’s how you did it. That’s why it was missing.”

There was a sound like a long, almost melancholy sigh from Gaster. “CORRECT, SANS.”

_ “Please, do share with the whole class.” _

“THE DETAILS ARE IRRELEVANT. WHAT MATTERS. IS THAT A SAVE POINT CAN BE USED TO SAVE MORE THAN ONE’S POSITION WITHIN TIME AND SPACE. IT CAN SAVE THE ENTIRE TIMELINE. HOWEVER. DOING THIS DEPLETES THE SAVE POINT. THE WINDOW BETWEEN DESTROYING THE RESET BUTTON, AND USING THE SAVE POINT, IS VERY, VERY THIN.”

Sans shook his head a little, pulling himself out of his memories. He was tired. The mere prospect of Gaster dangling hope in front of him, false or…or not…was tiring. So very tiring. The end of Resets, the ideal timeline where everything and everyone was safe and alive. It was much too good to ever be true. The Resets would never end.

_ “So when you were talking about ‘saving the world,’ you meant it quite literally.” _

“CORRECT.”

Spooky’s head turned. Sans glanced up to see them staring at him.

_ “And our good doctor has used this method before, has he? There is a term for this, I believe--proof of concept?” _

“Yeah.” Sans sighed quietly. “‘Least as far as I know.”

_ “The doctor is, clearly, great and powerful. What proof is there that such small things as we would be able to replicate such a  _ magnificent  _ experiment?” _

“SARCASM. IS NOT USEFUL.”

_ “I beg to differ.” _

“Okay. Moving on. What’s the third part?”

Sans felt Gaster begin to pace. He could imagine the old doctor and all his usual motions and idiosyncrasies, gesticulating, tapping his chin, fidgeting with the back of a desk chair. He always became so animated when he was excited.

“THIRD. THE MOST DELICATE OF ALL. THIS SAVED TIMELINE, FREE OF RESETS. MUST BE REMOVED FROM THE INFLUENCE OF THE POWERS THAT BE.”

Spooky gave a dark, mirthless chuckle.

_ “I can tell you from experience, doctor, that gods do not like it when you take away their toys.” _

“You mentioned this last time.” Sans hesitated, not entirely sure that he wanted to even ask. “Is that really what these ‘powers’ are? Cause I don’t think I’m ready to believe in gods. ‘Specially if they’re the cruel, remote kind.”

_ “A god would not care whether you believed in them or not,” _ Spooky muttered.  _ “Why shouldn’t there be remote, cruel beings that carelessly toy with our world? The human and I both have done much the same.” _

“IT DEPENDS, ENTIRELY. ON YOUR INTERPRETATION. THESE POWERS. EXERT NEAR-TOTAL CONTROL OVER THIS WORLD. BUT THEY DID NOT CREATE IT. THEIR INFLUENCE IS NOT ABSOLUTE. THEY ARE NOT OMNISCIENT. OFTEN, THEIR TAMPERING IS MINIMAL. HOW THEY CAME INTO CONTACT WITH OUR WORLD IS BEYOND MY COMPREHENSION. BUT THE METHOD BY WHICH THEY. INTERACT WITH AND ALTER OUR WORLD IS UNDERSTOOD TO ME. AS IS. HOW THAT INFLUENCE COULD, THEORETICALLY, BE REMOVED.”

Sans squeezed his eyesockets shut for a moment. This was almost too much. There was something about all this, something on the edge of his understanding, that his mind was struggling to keep at bay. If he thought about it too hard, if he looked at it too closely, then he would understand and it would be something he could never un-know. There was that pain again--an ache in his head and in his soul.

“Alphys found them, I think,” he said, rubbing at the twinge in his skull. “These…powers.”

Spooky’s head jerked up.  _ “What?” _

“She found something that she didn’t want to explain to me. Something how looking into the core of things revealed…”

He couldn’t remember the word she’d used. He shook his head.

“The way she made it sound, she’d found some kind of building block to the universe. She wanted me to bring the info to some future version of herself. But I dunno if I ever managed to remember.”

“YES. IT IS UNEXPECTED THAT SHE FOUND IT SO QUICKLY. BUT NOT SURPRISING. SHE IS HER FATHER’S DAUGHTER.”

_ “The knowledge didn’t destroy her?” _

“No? I don’t know. She just seemed kinda…melancholy.” Sans paused again, studying his knees. “I don’t know if my head can handle another big reveal about how the world works, though. So, uh. Whatever this thing is, don’t tell me, Doc. Okay?”

“SANS--” 

Sans shrank a little. Gaster’s tone was harsh, reprimanding, and Sans could already hear Gaster calling him a coward and a fool, berating him for yet again trying desperately not to know something. Sans didn’t bother trying to brace himself. He’d just let whatever it was bowl him over and then try to pick up the pieces later. It was fine. It didn’t matter.

But Gaster didn’t continue. The silence that followed was heavy, and Sans got the sense that Gaster was drumming his fingers in frustration. Several long seconds passed, and the feeling disappeared.

“VERY WELL,” Gaster said, no trace of frustration in his tone anymore. “IN BASIC TERMS, THEN. YOU, I ASSUME, WILL BE ABLE TO UNDERSTAND.”

At first, Sans thought Gaster was addressing him, but then Spooky answered.

_ “Of course. I have long since accepted that my ‘life,’ haha, is entirely subject to the whims of the universe,”  _ they said dryly.  _ “It is like being told that Santa Claus is not real. You know it in your heart already. Wishing that you did not is a meaningless pursuit.” _

“VERY WELL,” Gaster said again. “THEN. THIS THIRD PARTY ACCESSES OUR WORLD THROUGH A…WINDOW, OF SORTS. THIS WINDOW CAN BE CLOSED AND OPEN AT THEIR WHIM. TO CUT THEM OFF, THE WINDOW MUST BE REMOVED. MORE COMPLICATED THAN THIS, IS THAT. WE MUST OPERATE DELICATELY. AS I SAID LAST TIME. THEY WILL SEE OUR TAMPERING AS A--GLITCH, OR CRASH.”

Sans winced as the twinge shifted to his left eyesocket and pulsed there for a moment.

“THEY ARE FULLY CAPABLE OF UTTERLY ANNIHILATING THIS WORLD IF THEY BELIEVE THAT IT IS NO LONGER WORKING AS INTENDED. THIS IS WHY UTILIZING PLACES LIKE THIS. WILL BE INTEGRAL TO SUCCESS.”

Sans rubbed absently at his eyesocket. “So we’re gonna brick up some kind of metaphysical window. How?”

“DOCTOR ALPHYS,” Gaster said. “TELL HER THAT WHEN FILE10 IS CREATED, SHE MUST IMMEDIATELY MOVE IT TO A NEW FOLDER.”

“What.”

_ “What.” _

“IT IS ALMOST ENTIRELY METAPHORICAL, BUT SHE WILL UNDERSTAND.”

There was a long silence while Sans waited for Gaster to clarify, or to say something else. Eventually, it became obvious that Gaster was finished.

_ “That’s it? Break the Reset button, Save the world, and close the window? How are we, or anyone, supposed to do these things, exactly? These are quite large feats, doctor, and you haven’t exactly explained how they can be accomplished. Or do you think the human hasn’t tried at least those first two things many, many times already?” _

“THE HUMAN. HAS ONLY A HANDFUL OF THE PIECES. YOU, HAVE ANOTHER HANDFUL. SANS HAS ANOTHER. ALPHYS. ASGORE. THE FLOWER. ALL OF THEM. COMBINE YOUR EFFORTS. COMBINE YOUR SKILLS. USE WHAT YOU ALREADY KNOW. THINK OUTSIDE THE BOX.”

_ “Such an abstract answer, and from a scientist, no less! I thought you people were supposed to be more concrete.” _

“ABSTRACTION. HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IT. THIS IS FAR, FAR FROM A TYPICAL SCIENTIFIC METHOD.”

“The metaphysics department would have been way, way better suited to all this,” Sans said with a heavy sigh. “I think the point he’s making is that there are too many variables. The Doc doesn’t do so good with that many variables.”

“CORRECT. I SEE TWO OUTCOMES. FAILURE. AND SUCCESS. EVERYTHING FROM HERE TO THERE. IS BRANCHING. TWISTING. CONSIDER HOW MANY CHOICES THE HUMAN MAKES IN ANY GIVEN TIMELINE. AND CONSIDER, ALSO, HOW ALL THOSE CHOICES. RESULT IN ONLY A HANDFUL OF ENDINGS.”

_ “But that’s my point. How will we know we are making the--the correct decisions?” _

“I think it’s…less about correct decisions,” Sans said, slowly as he tried to piece his thoughts together. “We have three goals. And--I mean, in at least one timeline, the human has saved pretty much the whole world. Right? That timeline the other Sans is in, the one you keep talking about. So that’s a good chunk of work done already. Kinda curious, though, ‘cause if that’s the perfect ending or whatever, why does it still need saving?”

_ “Oh.” _ Spooky suddenly sat up straight, and for a moment the scratch-outs covering their face faded, just like last time. Their expression was one of shock before the static covered them again. 

_ “Oh, it is not the  _ world  _ that needs Saving. The human said it themself. There are  _ people  _ they never managed to Save.” _

“YES.”

Spooky got to their feet.  _ “You are saying they  _ can _ be saved.” _

“YES.”

_ “Do not lie to me, doctor.” _

“THEY CAN BE SAVED. AS I SAID. ALL WHO CAN BE SAVED MUST BE SAVED. OTHERWISE, THE CYCLE WILL CONTINUE.”

“How do we know if someone  _ can _ be saved?” Sans said, remaining where he was. 

“IF THEY EXIST WITHIN THE TIMELINE. IF THEY ARE PART OF THE NARRATIVE. IF THEY ARE PART OF THE WORLD. THEY CAN BE SAVED.”

For some reason, Spooky bristled and bared a row of human-like teeth. Their hands clenched into fists.

“COMMUNICATION WILL BE KEY,” Gaster went on, ignoring Spooky’s reaction. “TALK TO EACH OTHER. UTILIZE EACH OTHER’S SKILLS. IT TOOK EVERY SOUL IN THE UNDERGROUND TO BREAK. THE BARRIER. IT WILL DO SO AGAIN. FIND OUT WHAT IT TAKES TO BREAK A BUTTON. FIND OUT WHAT IT TAKES TO SAVE THOSE. WHO DO NOT CONSIDER THEMSELVES WORTH SAVING. FIND OUT WHAT IT TAKES TO RESHAPE THE WHOLE WORLD. THIS IS ALL THE ADVICE I CAN PROVIDE. THE REST. WILL BE UP TO ALL OF YOU. THIS IS THE LAST TIME. WE WILL SPEAK FOR AWHILE.”

“Wait, what?” Now Sans did sit up straight. “Why?”

“I, TOO, HAVE A ROLE TO PLAY,” Gaster said, and there was very faint amusement in his tone. “THE POWERS THAT BE ARE EASILY DISTRACTED. WITH SECRETS. HIDDEN THINGS. EASTER EGGS. THEY SEEK ‘FUN.’ I WILL PROVIDE.”

_ “What’s to stop them from simply Resetting while we work on this essentially nonexistent plan?” _

“ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. CONSIDER THAT FROM SANS’S PERSPECTIVE, THERE WILL BE MANY MORE RESETS.”

“Cool,” Sans muttered, squinting as he saw light begin to creep along the horizon. He was going to wake up soon. “Thanks.”

“THEREFORE, WHETHER ANYTHING COMES OF THIS HINGES ON ONE SINGLE THING. AND THAT IS. THE WILLINGNESS OF THE TWO OF YOU TO TRY.”

Sans glanced at Spooky and they looked right back at him. Neither of them answered. Neither of them had to. Sans got the feeling that Spooky was thinking the exact same thing as he was.

Trying, trusting, believing in anything…Gaster might as well have asked the two of them to go pull a star out of the sky.

“ONE CANNOT SAVE THE WORLD BY ACCIDENT. ONLY BY TRYING,” Gaster said into the silence, voice urgent. “EVERYONE IS COUNTING ON YOU.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sans said before Gaster could really start in on the emotional manipulation. “Told Al I’d save that data for her, anyway. Not like there’s any concrete plan beyond that, so.”

It would be the bare minimum of effort, as usual--especially considering Sans probably wouldn’t remember most of this until the next time he came to the Void.

_ “Curiosity,” _ Spooky said with a careless shrug.  _ “Might as well try a path I have yet to try.” _

“THAT IS ALL I ASK.”

The Void began to fade. Sans closed his eyesockets. He didn’t believe in any of this. But whether he believed in it or not didn’t matter, just like it didn’t matter whether he remembered everything they had just discussed. Things would go however they would go, and Sans would do as he always did. The only difference was that if he bought into all this false hope, it would hurt worse when all was said and done. Not like that was anything new. He would keep on crawling through all the hoops that Gaster provided.

What choice did he have?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Lost in memory](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136253) by [Chocolatez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolatez/pseuds/Chocolatez)




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